Dreams
by austenreader74
Summary: A mysterious shadow has invaded her dreams. And Hermione will do everything in her power to reveal who he is. Or will she? Warnings: Post-hogwarts, a little bit of M, a sprinkle of OOC, 100% Dramione fanfic
1. Darkness

Chapter 1: Darkness

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.

Thanks to Cecilia1204 for fixing my grammar mistakes. You're awesome!

Read and review, lovelies!

She was in a dream. She hoped that this was just a dream. The darkness had already enveloped her whole body. She couldn't see a thing, and Gryffindor or not, she was scared, frightened, because she didn't know what's happening.

"This is just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dream," she chanted, as if these were the secret words that could bring her back to reality. She was wrong. Nothing happened.

What if this was reality? Where was she? Was she trapped, held captive by someone or something? What can she do?

When she opened her eyes, she was lying on the floor, wearing her pyjamas and loose shirt; her wand was nowhere to be seen. The last thing that she remembered was going to sleep after spending another exhausting day at the Ministry.

She walked and walked. Her eyes, for some unexplained reason, could not get used to the darkness. She closed her eyes, opened them once more, but to no avail. All she could see was darkness, nothing else.

_Where am I?_She thought.

And then there it was. She felt it. She felt that she was not alone anymore. Someone was definitely watching her. Its piercing gaze bored into her but she didn't know where it came from.

"Hello?" she said, voice slightly cracking.

Merlin! She was scared and felt completely helpless. "Is...is someone out there?"

There was no answer. But she knew the eyes were still looking at her, and, as if an alarm was set off in her mind, she knew that she had to run. Run from that thing, whatever it was, preying on her.

Pushing her legs to their limit and feeling the sudden surge of adrenaline, she knew that she could, at least, gain distance away from it. She ran and ran. She felt herself soaked with sweat. She looked back not seeing anything but darkness, but she knew, oh, she knew. It was following her. She couldn't hear anything, only the sound of her bare feet against the stone floor and her panting.

She was growing tired but no, she would not stop. Because if she did, that something would surely catch her, and she's terrified of it, and of the things that it could do to her. No, she would not stop, but she felt herself slowing down. The rush of adrenaline was slowly vanishing.

It was now behind her. She again tried to run, but found her way blocked by a wall. She was trapped with nowhere to go. She tried pushing the wall with all her strength, praying that it would budge. But no, it did not.

She didn't turn to see it. She kept herself facing the wall, forehead resting on it, feeling the cold stone of which it was made. _Please,_she thought, _please, go away._ It did not.

She could now feel its presence clearly. With a gasp, she felt its breath on her right ear. It was warm, giving her unwanted and unexplained pleasure with that brief contact. She stiffened when she felt its arms curl around her waist, pulling her close to its body.

"_Hermione…",_it whispered in her ear, its voice low, sensual and soft. The voice clearly belonged to a man.

"Who are you?" she demanded, trying not to sound scared.

It chuckled. Its mouth travelled from her lobe to her neck, showering her with light kisses.

_Soon. You will know soon._

She immediately opened her eyes and was back in her room, her clothes and sheets drenched in sweat. Everything was in its right place, the man nowhere to be seen. A bit of cold wind could be felt from the slightly ajar sliding door of her balcony. She gave a sigh of relief and laughed silently to herself.

_It was nothing but a dream. Goodness, I can't believe that at your age, after fighting Voldemort and his minions, you would still be afraid of some stupid dream. Silly you._

Then she heard something moving at her balcony. A feeling of dread came back, as if she knew what or who could be there. The feeling of being watched permeated her whole body. It was the same sensation as in her dream.

She took her wand that was resting on her bedside table, slowly stood up and went to the half-closed glass door. The brunette berated herself mentally for being so careless.

She did not turn on the lights but instead readied herself for an attack as she approached the door with caution.

Fighting the thoughts in her mind, she focused on the matter at hand. She reached out a trembling hand to the side of the door, and with a quick slide, she opened the door fully.


	2. Watched

Chapter 2: Waiting and Wishing

Disclaimer: Not mine.

_She fought the thoughts in her mind and focused on the matter at hand. She reached out a trembling hand on the side of the door, and with a quick slide she opened the door fully. _

No one. No one was there. But the feeling of being watched lingered. She shuddered as a soft breeze caressed her form. She immediately closed the door and cast a couple of locking spells just to be sure. Ensured that the door was fully closed, she turned her attention to her room.

With a flicker of her wand, the lights were turned on. She left her room and proceeded to inspect her apartment. The cozy living area, the kitchen, the bathroom; nothing was amiss. The feeling of being watched was also slowly dissipating.

_Maybe I was just imagining it. With all the stress and pressure (not that I'm complaining) that I receive from my work, it is highly probable that I'm imagining things. Yep, nothing to worry about. I just have to make sure that my doors are locked and all the wards are working. _

With these things accomplished, Hermione proceeded to sleep. Her slumber was peaceful and dreamless, for now.

Outside of her balcony, a pair of gray eyes lingered; unseen and waiting for the right moment to claim what was his.

* * *

><p>"…and you have to be at the Conference for the Cooperation of Magical Creatures in exactly 23 minutes. After that, you are expected to attend the charity gathering for orphaned werewolves. Then, you have a meeting at the <em>Venetian<em> with the secretary and undersecretary of the Department of Finance and Management for the allocation of budget regarding the proposed project on… "

"I know. I know, Dahlia. You don't have to repeat it to me a gazillion times," interjected the brunette.

She was seated behind her desk which has seen finer days, poring over a parchment which she was currently filling up with letters and sentences. Beside her was her assistant, Dahlia, who was looking more exhausted than her boss.

"Oh, I don't have any idea how you do it, Miss Hermione! How could you do this job without blowing up? There's so much to do, yet so less to gain."

"Well, for one thing, Dahlia, don't call me Miss Hermione. It sounds so formal and stiff. It doesn't suit me. Second, I love what I'm doing and I enjoy helping others. It makes life more worthwhile, don't you think? And third, who said that there's less to gain in helping other people and disadvantaged magical beings?" the brunette asked, slightly exasperated. "What we are doing is a noble cause. It is something that we should be proud of."

The assistant looked abashed at her boss' words. So much for not blowing up.

"I'm sorry, Dahlia." Hermione said, apologizing quickly for her sudden outburst.

"It's nothing, Miss Hermione," looking relieved. "Are you still having those dreams? You seem tenser these past few days."

"Nightmares, you say. But yes, I dreamt last night."

"Again? But that would make it six nights in a row."

"Make it a week and two days. I haven't told you the time when these strange, er, visions, as you call it, started to happen."

"Ohhh..," eyes widening a bit. "It's becoming more mysterious as time passes by. Maybe someone's bewitching you? You know, a man in love will do anything," she added while leaning closer.

"Please," laughing inwardly, "who in their right mind would cast a spell on me to make me fall in love with them? Besides, I know that I'm in no spell or potion whatsoever. I went to Harry and Ron yesterday to have myself and my apartment checked for any hidden spells. They found nothing. My apartment was clean of any bit of magic besides my own doing."

"Hmm..but what could be behind these mysterious dreams of yours?" her assistant mulled over.

"I think it's nothing but stress and pressure. I do hope I'm not losing my mind; we'll be in a tighter situation than now if that happens," she said jokingly. "But so much of this talk on my trivial dreams. How much time do I have before the conference?"

"Fifteen minutes, to be exact."

* * *

><p>Another day ended for Hermione Granger. After enduring a bout of questioning and subtle interrogation, she was handed the additional budget on the newly formed branch on the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures that specializes in the rights and welfare of elfish folk. Aside from this, the new branch also caters to other magical creatures such as giants, half-giants, werewolves, and so on. Apparently, her interest in magical creatures only increased as she grew older.<p>

Thoughts of a nice warm bath filled her mind as she slowly trudged the stairs on her apartment in Muggle London. She badly needed one, she thought. That would surely loose her tired and aching muscles.

The day, as she contemplated, was productive. Apart from the brief reminder of her predicament during nighttime, the day was surprisingly pleasant. She particularly enjoyed the gathering at the orphanage for abandoned werewolf cubs.

Opening her door, she immediately looked around for any disturbed furniture. Everything was in their right order.

_Okay. So, maybe I'm getting a bit paranoid here. But, still, you never know. _

Twenty minutes later, after fretting over the charms and wards that she put on her apartment, Hermione finally gave in to spending a relaxing time at her tub while enjoying soft music from her enchanted radio.

_Haaa..this is life. I won't think about 'him' tonight. Thinking about what might happen if I finally close my eyes will only ruin this lovely evening. Well, it is possible that I keep on dreaming about that guy because I constantly think of him. But isn't it the other way around? The more you repress a certain thought, the higher the probability that your subconscious will put it on the surface. Hmm..I have to allot some time to research on this matter. _

Nights for Hermione this past week had been bizarre and a bit terrifying. To say that she's having dreams was an understatement. They're more of a vision, as her assistant commented. It was as if they were not just the creation of her mind but things waiting to happen. The feelings that she experienced every after dream were raw, almost too real and even though she didn't want to admit it, exhilarating.

It always involved a man that she couldn't see but only hear and feel. She's terrified of him and of the feelings that he brought out of her. Night after night it was always the same dream. She - being pursued by him and him cornering her, uttering her name over and over again, while giving her those sweet, controlled kisses that only heightened her fear and anticipation. What bothered her was the sensuality of it all. And what's more, she kept on thinking about him; to the point that she almost wished that something more will happen, not just darkness and unanswered kisses, but finally seeing him, whoever he was.

These were Hermione's thoughts as she succumbed to exhaustion and sleep while in her bath.

Author's Notes: Was this a boring chapter? No action and concentrates only on Hermione. But do not fear, dear readers, the next chapter will finally involve Draco. And I promise, _there will be action_. I hope. *evil laugh* If you've noticed, I changed the rating from T to M. Mind you, I was a bit apprehensive about that. This is my first time writing a story and I did not plan on including intimate scenes. Well, I've already read some, um, hardcore lemony goodness before but it is a whole different story if you're the one who's doing the writing. Give me some love and review. Au revoir!


	3. Memories and a Man

Chapter 3: Memories and a Man

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. No money is being made off of this.

He thought that he had endured enough. No. He cannot take it anymore. His feelings for her - all the longing, yearning and wanting - will be satisfied. The extent of his emotions for her surpassed mere admiration or raw possessiveness. He could be considered obsessed by anyone who was watching in the sidelines. But he knew that it was not as simple as that.

Back when they were still in their sixth year, Draco Malfoy finally _saw_ Hermione Granger. Not the mudblood know-it-all. Not the brains behind the Golden Trio. Not the Gryffindor Princess. But she as a woman.

He could not - and he tried - to pinpoint the specific qualities that attracted him to her. Her courage to face any endeavor, her feistiness that turned him on, her compassion and understanding for all, her loyalty to those she held dear in her heart. These and more were the things that made him crazy over her; things that he want for himself, things that he thought he could not have no matter how hard he try.

The realization hit him like a bludger, taking his breath away from him, making him dizzy and lightheaded, and hindering his ability to support himself physically.

Then Draco only did what a normal person would do. He tried to deny it to himself - stating all the logical reasons that he could think of to sway his irrational mind. He went to great lengths to occupy his mind of other things: Quidditch, his studies, his Death Eater responsibilities, women. But still thoughts of her lingered. From the moment he opened his eyes, up to the realm of one's repressed hopes and fears, she followed him.

He practically couldn't do anything. They were at war at that time. He was a Death Eater, she was with the Light. They were at the two opposing ends of a pole; so unlike. Yet what his damned heart said was she belonged to him and him to her.

The light won; Harry became the Boy-Who-Conquered-the-Darkness; the Golden Trio was regarded as war heroes; Death Eaters were given trial, some were imprisoned, others were sentenced to endure house arrest. Lucius was given the latter while Narcissa and Draco walked from the Wizengamot as free members of the society, thanks to the testimony of Harry.

Patience, as many said, was unusual for the young. Naïvete, recklessness, eagerness, enthusiasm – these were some qualities that may hinder patience. Uncontrolled feelings may lead to failure of a plan.

Draco was a patient man.

Seven years has passed. The waiting was over. He will act now.

* * *

><p>The dream was different. Instead of darkness, what enveloped Hermione was familiarity. The stone walls, the corridors, the stairs, the paintings - Hogwarts. She was walking – well, that's what she thought she was doing. It was as if she was in another body, seeing everything in another person's eyes.<p>

The person and she – they – went to various classrooms, opening doors, looking at the rooms, checking if there were people, as if they were looking for something. They stopped at the corridor leading to the library. The person immediately backed itself to the wall and slowly peered at the passage. Hermione saw three people – she, Harry and Ron. They were chattering, smiles were on their faces, eyes glimmered in mirth, walking towards dream-Hermione.

Looking at the three of them felt surreal. _Was this just a dream? It's more of a memory of someone._ It couldn't be just a dream. This happened when they were in their last year, savoring the remaining days of being a student and of being finally free from the dangers of Voldemort. Harry and Ron went to the library to convince Hermione that she needed fresh air and some entertainment. Their N.E.W.T.s was finally over and Hermione was just returning some books at the library.

The three of them kept walking. The person and dream-Hermione looked around, looking for a place to hide. A broom closet was at the corner. They immediately went inside and left the door slightly ajar. When the three people passed, dream-Hermione cannot help but look at the back of her seventh year self. She tried to look at Ron and Harry but the body she occupied only had eyes for her.

The image blurred and was replaced by darkness. She closed her eyes and when she opened it she saw the Hogwarts Express. They were alone, passed-by by students and parents. The person and dream-Hermione looked around, clearly searching for someone. She instantly knew that it was her that they were looking for. And then there she was, surrounded by people with flaming red hair.

The image rippled and blurred once again, and when it stilled she saw the familiar corridor of her office at the fourth level of the Ministry. They walked its expanse, seemingly sure of their destination, and then they stopped in front of her office. A pale hand caressed the handle of the door, making a move as if to open it but stopping midway. Instead, it traced the letters at her door name plate. The hand followed every lines her name produced as if admiring the workmanship of the sign. And then the image blurred once again.

Finally, darkness.

Undoubtedly, this was not a simple dream. She was in someone's memories just seconds ago. Now, she knew that he will make himself known to her. With the gloom, the familiar sensation of being watched returned. And then she finally felt it, his breath was on her neck, a hand was resting on her shoulder, the other was on her waist pulling her closer.

A dread came to her, she was not wearing anything. She was not cold though, she felt…comfortable. The fingers resting on her skin were warm, soft and gentle. She couldn't see a thing.

"Have you figured out who I am, love?" the man asked softly, the voice eerily familiar.

"L-love? I don't know you. Where am I?" Her voice slowly gained strength. "What have you done to me?"

"I haven't done anything to you…yet. Not yet, love. I have a couple of ideas but it can wait later. "

"What do you want from me?" She said, turning to the unseen man, his hands removed from its place. What she saw was a shadow, a mass of darkness that's darker than the gloom around them.

"Isn't it obvious, dear. You. I want you, Hermione." His fingers traced her jaw, her neck to her shoulders. His breath warm on her face. "You are so beautiful."

She instinctively covered her nudity and took a step backwards. He chuckled. "Conservative as always. I can see you clearly, you know. This is my creation, my world and you, my dear, are the lone guest." He walked towards her and enveloped her in an embrace. "I've longed to do this for years." He sighed with content and smelt deeply her curls that fell a few inches from her shoulders. She suddenly felt lightheaded as his musky scent filled her head; her hands automatically held on to his shoulders for support.

"What are you doing to me?" She asked weakly.

"Nothing, love. But now I'm about to show you who you belonged to."

With this, he lowered his head and tasted her slightly parted lips. The kiss was gentle, careful, seeking for permission. A moan came from Hermione, fueling his desire. Then the kiss instantly became aggressive, his tongue tasting her, owning her, conveying things yet to come. She felt faint and warm. Her hold on him became stronger as he devoured her lips; her hands traveled to his hair, pulling him closer to her.

She knew that this was wrong and dangerous. Who could be this man? His voice was familiar but she couldn't place as to who its owner was. The identity of the man was a mystery and he could be planning on hurting her. She still didn't know where she was and how she got there. But her body didn't want to follow her mind.

His hand cradled her head, the other hand rested on her back, molding her bare body to his clothed one. She was slowly losing oxygen from the kiss but he continued to deepen their contact. When she can't take it anymore, she opened her eyes.

She was back at her apartment, specifically at her tub. The water already lost its warmth, indicating the length of time that she spent sleeping in there. A shiver suddenly swept at her whole body upon remembering the details of her dream.

A/N: Blame the tropical storms in my country for this late update. I tried to finish this chapter as soon as possible but the weather induced me to my 'hibernate mode'. What do you think of this chapter? Reviews, please.


	4. Musings and Meetings

Chapter 4: Musings and Meetings

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and the characters therein.

She stared at the parchments before her, examining the quality of the paper instead of reading its contents. As much as she wanted to spend her time effectively by poring over the reports on the sudden increase of ghouls in the area of Nottinghamshire, her mind kept wandering on the previous night's encounter with the mysterious man. The more she thought about the bizarre dream, the greater was the urge in her mind to put down whatever she was doing, go to the Ministry Library and scour the bookshelves for possible volumes that will clarify things up.

She tried to concentrate on her work. She read a sentence, reread it, and re-reread it again. The words seemed to just swim in her head. It certainly didn't help when flashes of memories from the night before kept on reappearing whenever she closed her eyes.

"Stop!" She commanded her mind loudly. "I'll finish this first before doing anything. I can't compromise the quality of my work by focusing my attention on _unimportant _things. Besides, tomorrow's Saturday and I have the day to myself," she said, convincing herself.

She could go to the library after her working hours but it was Friday and Friday nights were spent with Harry, Ron, Ginny and their close friends at school. That's the only time that they could get-together and catch-up with everyone's lives.

They all seemed so busy with their own careers and priorities. Harry and Ron were working as Aurors and even though they belong to the same institution as her, the nature of their work made their unplanned meetings rare. Ginny, on the other hand, who was engaged to Harry, was a member of the Holyhead Harpies, touring different cities around the country.

She lifted her eyes and her gaze fell to the sight outside the window. What she saw offered no comfort. The sky was bleak, the clouds looked lumps of grey cotton that moved ever so slowly. The autumn season had not been working its charm on her as compared to the previous years. The saving grace would be the flower vase perched on the ledge at the window. The flowers were a direct contrast from what was outside. They were deep red, large, with round petals that curved gently and delicately, budding slowly at the center. The ashy background only highlighted the burgundy of the blooms.

_What are they again? Ahh..Camellia._ She thought, a small smile gracing her face.

She had to thank Dahlia for it. Ever since her assistant started working for her three months ago, not a day went by without a fresh set of flowers at that spot. Dahlia was very fond of gardening and has her own plot to boast. The assistant remarked that her office needed some livening up, thus the flowers. And it did, to Hermione's surprise. She was not a flower-person but that addition to her office made the atmosphere lighter and easier to breathe in. She also couldn't complain on Dahlia's skills as an assistant. She was punctual, highly organized and dedicated to her work. And come to think of it, she was also named after a flower.

_Could he also make flowers in my dreams?_ _I bet he could even make a field or even fields of flowers. _She considered, remembering once again him, the dream-man, as she termed him._That was highly possible since he clearly has the ability to manipulate everything in that level of reality; even my own senses could be controlled. But why want me? _Her brow creased upon remembering his words and the kiss. She shook her head. _It couldn't be possible. _She shrugged away the possibility that the dream-man was interested in her.

_Could it be some kind of prank? Or vengeance? Who could hate me so much? I don't have any idea of a spell or a potion that would accomplish something as vivid and as real as that dream, or of anything that could make a person enter one's unconscious state. It's as if I was really in _his_ world. It could be one of the branches of the Dark Arts. I really have to lay my hands on books, on..on something that would give me some answers. I can't just wait for him to appear again in my dream tonight. I have to be ready. I suppose Harry and Ron won't mind me running late. _She added to herself.

Wariness and unease crept in her bones. Fear and anxiety could be tasted in her mouth. But she also felt…anticipation and desire at the back of her mind. This, whatever this was, was getting serious and it needed enough thinking, researching, planning and controlling, especially the last part. She couldn't be falli...no. She wouldn't go to that point. Never!

She shook herself out of her musings, looked at her clattered desk, breathed in deeply, exhaled loudly and confronted the piles of paper in front of her.

* * *

><p>She promised herself that she would only spend thirty minutes at the Ministry library; it was already 7:18 and she has to be at<em> The Prancing Unicorn<em> by 7:30.

Her eagerness to do some in-depth research was coupled by anticipation and excitement upon being surrounded once again by loads of ancient tomes. However, this was immediately replaced by disappointment and annoyance.

"How could there be no books about that? Impossible!" Hermione almost shouted. "What kind of library is this?"

There were tomes of books that discuss dreams as an essential part of divination, how to interpret its meaning, how to use dreams to one's best advantage and so on. But nothing about manipulating other people's dreams. There was one title that seemed promising, though, _Creating Dreams: The How's and What's of Dream Construction _by Amanda Liverich.

"Hmmm..this would do for now." She mused.

She grabbed a couple of books on Dark Arts as well, just to be sure. The wall clock showed that she only had two minutes before meeting her friends. Hugging the books on her chest she swiftly turned to her right and bumped on someone. The impact, though not that hard, made her shut her eyes for some seconds.

"I am very sorry. It's entirely my fault, I…," she lifted her gaze to the person. "Malfoy." Her voice expressed surprise.

He stood almost a foot taller than her. His childhood features were now gone; instead his face was filled up nicely. Dressed impeccably in black robes, he appeared paler than usual. His hair, as Hermione observed, was not slicked back anymore. It fell comfortably on top of his eyebrows, grazing his eyes gently. All in all, years had been good to him.

"I see, still the bookworm you are, Granger." He drawled, voice silky, cold grey eyes piercing her browns, and then travelled to the books she was hugging.

They stood for about a few seconds assessing each other. He - challenging the witch in a staring competition, intent on leaving an impact on her, she - not backing down but finding it hard to look at him directly. Hearing his voice again reminded her of something…something that her mind can't grasp as of now.

_Why is he looking at me like he's about to eat me. Pompous git. _"What do you want, Malfoy?" she said irritably. "I have things to do, you know." She added, finally looking at him straight in the eye.

"Oh, I know you have things to do, Granger," his lips formed a knowing smile. "What are these books for? Divination and dreams. Never thought you're a Trelawney wannabe." He added, amused but not surprised, the smile not wavering.

She looked at him suspiciously. "That's none of your business, ferret." She answered, walking past him, incensed.

"Throwing insults now, Granger? I thought you are unprejudiced, what with your programs on equality and cooperation." He turned to her. "I see that you clearly need to apply your principles on everyone." She continued walking, Malfoy at her heels.

_Merlin! What does he want with me? _She thought, frustration painted on her face. _And why is he so weird? Where's the 'filthy little Mudblood' line he's so proud of. And why is he still looking at me like that? Last time I checked, I am the bane of his existence. _

"Stop following me!"

"I'm not. I have to borrow this one. See?" He waved a small book in front of her.

She looked at the book, wonder etched on her face. "What are you even doing here?"

He raised a brow at her. "I work here, that's why."

"You? Here?" Disbelief was in her voice. "And what kind of _work_ are you exactly doing?"

"That's classified." He said patronizingly.

This time, Hermione raised her left brow. "Well, you could at least put some distance between us. It's not as if we're friends or anything."

"Why? Can't stand my charms, Granger?" He leered.

Hermione hissed. "Fine. You go first." Indicating the check-out counter.

"I believe I'm gentleman enough to let a lady like _you_ go first." She looked at him incredulously. She snorted but followed his suggestion.

They stood there in silence, Hermione looking everywhere but on Malfoy. _He's acting so, so, un-Malfoyish. Maybe the rumors are true. They say he has changed. _She slipped a gaze at him. Caught. The wizard chukled. She let out a loud 'hrmmph', gathered her books then stormed off the room.

Malfoy's piercing stare lingered on the brunette's back. _Maybe I should alter some of my plans. My love is getting eager in finding the identity of her secret admirer._ He closed his eyes, remembering the kiss that they shared last night, a feeling of possessiveness forming at his insides. _Patience, Draco. Patience. A little more waiting wouldn't hurt._

* * *

><p>The <em>Prancing Unicorn<em> was packed. People were everywhere and laughter filled the air. The restaurant was a new addition to the booming business at the wizarding hub, Diagon Alley. The ceiling was high with wooden beams connected to the wall and a massive chandelier hung at the center of the establishment, giving a warm glow on the surroundings. Hermione's eyes combed the crowd, searching for her friends

"Oi, Mione! Here!" shouted a red haired man. "You're late!"

A warm smile graced Hermione's face when she saw Ron, Harry and Ginny. She walked to her friends and gave each one a hug.

"Now that's news, Ms. Hermione Granger late for an appointment."

"Ha-ha, Ron, very funny of you."

"I just missed you, Mione." Ron said, giving Hermione a chaste kiss on the cheek.

Their relationship did not blossom, as other people would like to happen. They tried going out, exchanged some sloppy kisses in their seventh year, but it was just that. They were too different and bickered almost incessantly. They reached a decision and that was to be friends. Ron was currently with Lavender now and Hermione was genuinely happy for him.

She settled herself beside Ginny.

"So! How's life? And don't think about giving as an update on the latest law passed for house-elves or anything regarding work." Ginny warned while stifling a laugh. "Tell me about Mario, you know, the American I introduced to you. Still seeing him?"

"Now, now, Gin," Harry interrupted "Girl-talk later, let's order food for now. I'm starving."

"Me too, mate. I could eat a hippogriff right now." Ron added, not joking at all.

* * *

><p>The night out with her friends had been great. They exchanged stories and anecdotes of their years at Hogwarts. She really looked forward to next week where they could hang out together, with the promised addition of Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom. As much as the witch wanted to talk to her friends about the development of her dreams, she opted to withhold it from them for the meantime. The boys were busy enough catching Dark wizards and she didn't want to add another weight on their shoulders. She knew that they would react strongly and worry about her. And clearly, they couldn't do anything to make the dreams stop.<p>

Hermione decided that she would deal this on her own. She's capable enough, she thought. With the training and skills she acquired when they were still fighting Voldemort, she knew that she could manage on her own.

She was seated at her study desk that was situated at the corner of her room. Books from the Ministry were strewn carelessly in front of her, leaves open. Her eyes were already drooping but she has found nothing pertaining to her situation. There was an interesting entry, though, in _The Origin of Dreams,_ that caught her attention. It centered on Morpheus, the God of Dreams. It was said that he has the ability to appear in the sleep of mortals in any form. Being a master of dreams, he has the ability to send images as visions to people, to control these images and give form to the creatures that lurk in there.

He, himself was capable of mimicking any human and take any form that he wanted. It was believed that he imparted his knowledge on a wizard, reappearing in his sleep countless of times. The reason to this was unknown, but rumors said that Morpheus wanted to see how mortals would handle that kind of power. The wizard, at first did not believe his visions. But later on, he wrote a book that held the secret to enter one's unconsciousness, giving him the ability to penetrate one's sleeping state.

The book, however did not discuss the ensuing events. It only stated that the wizard, who was known as Bartholomew Trevisa, became so addicted to appearing in one's dreams that he applied his extensive knowledge in the Dark Arts to make the dream real in one's mind. The dreamer now didn't only see the dream but feel it as if he was in his conscious state. The entry ended abruptly without giving the title of the said book by Trevisa.

Hermione felt energized upon reading this. _This is a lead! I could be getting somewhere here. _She was annoyed, though, in not knowing the title of the said book. But at least, she knew where to start. The witch's mind immediately came up with a plan. A visit to one or two of the extensive libraries in the country was needed. She went to her kitchen and made herself a cup of milk and downed it quickly. She went back to her room, laid down on her comfy bed, apprehensive on what she was about to do.

_I'll dream again, for sure. Will it be the same dream? Maybe it will change. Will he appear again? Touch me? Talk to me? Arggh..I have to stop thinking. _She breathed in and out deeply, trying to relax her tense muscles and worried mind. _I could take a dreamless potion but I'm not sure if it will work or not. Besides that would be admitting some form of defeat. No I won't. I won't back down. Breathe, Hermione. Nothing bad will happen. Sleep for now. _

Fifteen minutes later, Hermione was already in the arms of Morpheus.

A/N: Longest chapter I've done so far. Not the best one, in my opinion, but I hope the next chapter will be better. I'm planning on giving our leads a much needed passionate interaction. What do you think? Reviews, please, please. I badly need your thoughts/suggestions. _Salamat sa pagbasa_ ('Thanks for reading' in my native tongue) :)


	5. A Stalker and a Shadow

Chapter 5: A Stalker and a Shadow

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. No profit is being made from this work.

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><p>Rays of sunlight streamed over the wooden floor of her bedroom. The life-giving light managed to permeate her room because of the slightly drawn curtains of her balcony glass door. It reached some of the flowers that she decided to take from her office. The blossoms, enchanted to retain their freshness, were placed on a chair overlooking the outside environs. People already littered the streets of Muggle London. It was Saturday and many planned to go out with their friends or family. As if reading people's minds, the weather co-operated, showing only patches of clouds here and there. The rain was not expected for today.<p>

The brunette was slowly emerging from her slumber. As she sluggishly opened her eyes, her mind was gradually registering something of importance. She immediately sat up, eyes widening at the sudden realization. She didn't dream! Not even those small dream scenes that sometimes visit the living. She tried to remember her night: the time with her friends, her research, the cup of milk that she drank.

Hermione bit her lower lip in concentration. No matter how hard she dug through her mind, she couldn't find any sign that she had dreamt. No memory. None at all. In normal circumstances, Hermione would be relieved that her night was not invaded by an unknown man but a strange feeling in her gut told her otherwise. Her mind debated whether she would continue her visit to Chetham's Library in Manchester or not. True, she didn't dream last night but what if it happened again? It was better to be prepared and know what was after her. If she changed her plans nothing would actually be affected. She had already finished the paperwork on the investigation regarding the increased activities of ghouls. She had read, scrutinized and signed the parchments that needed to be attended to. The obvious thing to do was to proceed with her initial plan. Climbing out of her bed, she went to the loo to perform her morning rituals.

Breakfast simply consisted of coffee, toast and sausage. The aroma of the strong coffee made her mind clearer and more alert. She was nibbling on toast while reading the entry that she found last night. Apart from mentioning Morpheus and the wizard Bartholomew Trevisa, nothing of consequence to her problem was mentioned again. She quickly finished her toast and savoured the last drop of her coffee. With a slight wave of her hand, the cup and the other utensils she used were cleaned and were now back in their appropriate places. She was getting quite competent at wandless magic.

_I need to know who Bartholomew Trevisa is. His book is the key to knowing and to counter whatever spell, charm or potion that makes me dream of him. The dreams are getting more vivid, not to mention physical._ She once again remembered the kiss and had to compose herself to make her breathing even. _Damn!_ She cursed, slightly surprised with herself. _He's getting into me. I really have to do something about this._

For this trip, Hermione chose to wear something comfortable. Her get-up was composed of slightly tight-fitting jeans, a comfortable tee, a coat that reached her mid-thigh and a pair of half-inch boots. She left her curls down. It was still bushy but not unkempt and it gave her face character and liveliness. She then proceeded to put on a bit of foundation and lip balm before looking at her wristwatch, checking the time; 8:30. Grabbing her purse, she took a last look at her small apartment and locked it.

A small bookstore down the street was owned by Sebastian, an elderly wizard who favoured the Muggle life. From his store, Hermione planned to floo to a wizarding inn near the library. Her own fireplace was under repair because of some lapse in the Floo Network.

She walked down the cobbled street, feeling the fresh air that came from the park at her left. A weird sensation flowed through her body. She turned her head to a cluster of tall bushes. Amidst the season, the plants seemed to not follow the regular cycle of nature. Although the leaves were almost brown in colour, the shrubs were still thick, enough to hide a couple of persons behind it. She stared at the clump but then shook her head, ignoring the sensation.

The park was quite empty, only a family of four walking in front of her. The children playfully teased each other while the parents walked hand in hand. No one is watching you, you're paranoid, she chided herself. She continued walking until she reached the store.

Opening the door, Hermione was immediately welcomed by the older wizard.

"Ah, Hermione dear, good morning," he said while giving her a hug. "Starting early, are we?" Hermione had owled the shop owner yesterday to say that she would be using his fireplace.

"Well, nothing beats an early riser, Sebastian," she replied, smiling sweetly at him. As years passed by, Hermione grew closer to the older wizard. She usually took walks whenever she was home early and that's when she discovered the quaint bookstore.

The store looked the same as the first time she set foot in there. Piles and piles of books lined the walls. A well-loved couch was at the centre, the sole furniture that could be seen apart from the wooden chair that the owner occupied behind the counter. Rugs of varying colours were placed in strategic places to offer comfort when the establishment was full.

"You seem troubled, child. Is something wrong?" Sebastian asked, noting her sudden quietness.

"Oh! Nothing, nothing...I was just...have you encountered any books by a wizard named Bartholomew Trevisa?"

"Hmmm..." Sebastian rubbed his chin. "Trevisa...Trevisa. Sorry, dear. Never heard of him. Is that why you're going to Manchester?"

"Yes, exactly. I've checked the Ministry but I hit a dead end. I think I'll find his book at my favourite library. It has an extensive array of archival materials and it's the oldest public library in Britain. Besides, I'm pretty close to the staff so it'll be easy for me to get a pass into the restricted sections. May I, Sebastian?" She referred to the small room behind the counter housing the fireplace that was used only for flooing.

"No worries. You can use it anytime." Sebastian looked at her behind his spectacles.

"Thanks, Sebastian."

"Sure, sure. Now go and look for that book of yours." He looked at the wall clock, noting the time. "The library is about to open now."

"Thanks, again."

She walked and pushed the left-most part of the counter that was connected to a latch. She proceeded to the small room, took some powder in her hands and tossed it in the fireplace. She walked into the green fire and declared her destination.

Hermione emerged from the fireplace and dusted off the soot from her coat. The inn was bereft of customers that morning except for a middle-aged guy who was taking an early swig of some wizarding liquor at the corner of the bar.

Hermione didn't waste any time and quickly went to the door, opening it and being welcomed by a gust of cool breeze. She wrapped her coat around her petite body and stepped onto the cobbled street. Chetham's Library was just a few blocks away. She had been visiting it since her third year at Hogwarts.

She turned the last corner and a within a couple of dozen of steps she was finally facing the library – a medieval sandstone building housing thousands of books. She passed through the oak doors, deposited her coat and went inside. The building sported a 17th century interior with walls lined with gated oak. She immediately went into the main librarian's office to ask for permission. Elinda Cogswell, a middle aged blonde witch, opened the door when she knocked.

"Oh, Hermione!" she said with a hug. "You're here! I've missed you so much! It's been so long since you last visited."

"Got a bit busy with work and all," replied Hermione, smiling warmly at the witch.

"You haven't changed a bit. How may I help you? Do you need more of those files on werewolf activities?"

"No, Elinda. Actually, I'm working on this new project and I need to find a book by a Bartholomew Trevisa. His work involved the Dark Arts and I know that this library has a broad collection of books in that field. I was hoping to get a pass from you so that I could widen my research."

"No problem, dear. I'll lead you to that section. Come along, now." The librarian smiled at her.

They walked along rows and rows of books, chattering and catching up on the latest happenings in their lives.

"I wonder why there are no readers at this time? It's so quiet," Hermione remarked when they passed the main reading room.

"Well, kids nowadays would rather spend their whole day in front of computers or hanging out with friends, but during weekdays, some people visit us, especially tourists. Others also hold conferences here. "

They turned into one of the aisles and faced the wall. The librarian retrieved her wand from her pocket and tapped a couple of bricks, revealing a hidden door.

"Here it is, Hermione. Just pass by my office when you're done." Elinda opened the door for the brunette.

"Sure, Elinda," she answered. "And don't worry about the books. I'll handle them with utmost care," she said jokingly.

"That, you must do, dear. Or else I might ban you from this library," Elinda answered with a laugh as

Hermione entered the room. Rows and rows of books filled the huge room. It couldn't be smaller than the Great Hall at Hogwarts. She breathed deeply and smiled to herself. Nothing beat the smell of books.

Hermione went to the section that was dedicated to the works of dark wizards. Scanning the titles, she used her wand to get the books that she thought would help her. She levitated the tomes and went to the reading area in the centre of the room. The room was dimly lit and leaded pane windows set in massive arches didn't help in lighting up the place. The click of her heels was the only sound to be heard. A feeling of being watched coursed through her body. She stopped abruptly and looked behind her. Nothing. She shook her head as if to clear it of thoughts and proceeded to the reading area.

In the centre was a very large gate leg table surrounded by a set of leather backed chairs with oak frames. She settled on a seat and started reading.

Two and a half hours passed but still her efforts were futile. Trevisa's book was not in the library. She tried to accio it but no book came to her hands. She returned the books that she had read and went to another section where she saw books of a variety of topics. One was about the history of old wizarding families in England. She perused it, remembering her nemesis at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy. Sure enough, their family was recorded in the book, stating their origins from France. She remembered the time in sixth year when Malfoy started to act strange towards her. The insults didn't stop, but they became less offensive, more like the teasing of one friend to another. Memories poured into her mind. His stares and gazes at her; the quiet moments they shared in their common room when they were Heads. Since the end of the battle against Voldemort, Malfoy had, indeed, changed. He didn't stop being a git but she had found him sensible when he wanted to be. She got rid off of these thoughts immediately and selected more books but didn't bother going to the reading area. Slumping on the floor and reading quietly, she felt a wave of excitement course through her when she read this passage:

_One of the greatest (and most obscure) wizards who specialized in combining the Dark Arts and dream weaving was Bartholomew Trevisa, a twelfth century wizard who was rumoured to have been visited by the god of dreams himself. Trevisa was said to have been given knowledge by the god, Morpheus, to manipulate the dreams of people. The wizard eventually authored a book entitled 'Somnium Universitas' that held the secret of dream manipulation. Accounts said that the book was full of Dark Magic and that he used it to eradicate his competitors in business, as well as to lure women into his grasp. After gaining a vast amount of wealth, the wizard left the country and went, as believed by most, to France. He took his book with him, the sole copy in the world. Nothing was heard again of him or of his book. The Ministry of Magic sent parties to investigate the whereabouts of said book but they had always returned empty-handed. Libraries in France were searched but nothing came out of it. The Ministry has destroyed almost all of other materials that tried to explain, narrate or theorize on the contents of the book, reasoning that the contents or even knowledge of the book was too dangerous to be known to everyone._

Hermione stopped reading when she heard footsteps. It couldn't be denied anymore, she was not alone in this room. Someone was watching her. She could clearly feel their gaze. Kneeling, she opened her purse which was enchanted with an Undetectable Extension Charm, reached for her wand and uttered a spell that copied the whole chapter of the book she was reading. She put the parchments in her purse and held her wand in her right hand. With a wave of her wand the books were back in their original place. She finally stood up and peered over the books behind her. She couldn't see anyone but she couldn't be wrong, she heard footsteps and she could feel she wasn't alone. She took small, sure steps that led her to the aisle.

She walked softly, her senses heightened, keeping her eyes in front of her but she couldn't see anyone. Reaching the centre of the room she sat in the chair she had used before. The silence was deafening. She could only hear her slightly ragged breath as she surveyed her surroundings but the area was clear. The sensation of being observed didn't lessen. It remained. It reminded her of her first dream when she was being pursued by him. A sudden chill swept through her body. She didn't feel safe in the room anymore.

_It couldn't be him. I'm awake now. Unless he's here. With me,_ she thought, a surge of dread flowing into her body. She didn't understand herself. Why was she so afraid of him? He wouldn't harm her, would he? He clearly said that he wanted her but she was a capable witch. She trained with Ron and Harry, she could at least put up a fight. Her mind was rationalizing things but her body didn't want to follow it. She trembled as she heard a sudden swoosh of garments. Grabbing her purse, she opened the door without looking back.

Walking briskly, she heard footsteps behind her. She looked back not stopping her pace. No one. She returned her gaze to the front and walked faster, almost running. She looked back again and when she looked in front of her, she suddenly bumped into someone.

"Goodness, Hermione!" exclaimed Elinda. "What happened? What's the matter? You look like you're about to faint."

She righted her breathing before answering. "No-nothing," she lied. "I was just..." once again looking behind her. "...I just finished my research, that's all. I think I'll call it a day."

"Are you sure, dear? You don't look well. We can go to my office to sort you out."

"No need, Elinda. I'm fine, really." She straightened up. "See? I...I just need to...to eat something. It's past twelve already," she said, looking at her wristwatch.

"If that's what you want. Would you care to join me? I'm about to grab lunch too."

She thought for a second and answered weakly. "Sure. We can catch up more. It's been months since I was last here."

"Great! We should go to my office first to grab my stuff. Would you mind if my daughter joins us? I'll meet her at a shop near New Bridge. You should see her. She has grown quite well… "

The two friends walked together, Elinda chattering along the way. Hermione's unease started to vanish. But she wasn't going to take a chance. She had to get out of here. Someone was following her, she was sure of it.

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><p>Hermione arrived at her flat around seven in the evening. After their lunch, they went into some stores to buy a dress for Elinda's daughter and then she was invited for dinner at her friend's home. She couldn't say no so she accepted the invitation. Hermione was thankful that she gave in because she enjoyed her time there. Elinda's family was anything but boring. Her husband was Muggle but their three kids had shown that they were magical. The different atmosphere made her forget her anxiety over what happened in the library but she was still sure that she was being watched, even when they were shopping. After arriving back at Sebastian's store, Hermione immediately apparated to her flat.<p>

Upon arriving in her own living room, she quickly took off her boots, placed her purse and her purchases on the floor and rested on her couch. It was a tiring day. She stretched a bit and closed her eyes, feeling at ease. After a couple of minutes, she reached out to her purse and reached for the parchments that contained the chapter that she read. She poured over them again but she found nothing new. She sighed wearily. _Where would I find_ 'Somnium Univesitas'? _The Ministry has even tried finding it but failed not once, but a couple of times. What can I do?_

She closed her eyes once again and drifted off to sleep.

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><p>Saturday and Sunday sped by without seeing the dream-man. Hermione couldn't relax, though, because of the incident at the library when she was followed or stalked, by someone. But she was glad, nonetheless, for not dreaming again. She hoped that it would continue that way. She had enough worries in her head right now.<p>

Arriving early at the Ministry, she exchanged greetings with her assistant and proceeded to her office where she was welcomed by half-bloom red roses at her window. The flowers looked lovely. She went out again to the adjoining room and walked to her assistant's desk.

"The flowers are absolutely lovely, Dahlia. Thank you," she said.

"It's nothing, Miss Hermione. I'm glad you liked them," her assistant answered. "Oh, I almost forgot, you have to attend the opening of the De Beauvais Institute at two in the afternoon."

"Really? Okay, I guess I have to start working to finish everything by that time. Thanks, again, Dahlia."

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><p>Hermione didn't think that it would occur again. She thought that it had stopped already, but here she was. She was dreaming and the environment was unfamiliar to her. When she closed her eyes that evening she thought that her nightly visits would be over. She was wholly wrong. When she opened her eyes, what she felt was the soft mattress that she was lying on. It differed from her own because of the duvet over her body; she only owned a simple bed sheet. The bed was huge, king-sized. She looked around her, noting the French windows and the moonlight that seeped through the curtains, the only source of light in the massive bedroom. When she tried to get up, a voice and a grasp on both of her wrists stopped her.<p>

"Stop, love. You're not going anywhere," he said, his warm breath brushing over her face.

Hermione opened her eyes widely upon seeing the phantom-like being over her, but she easily recovered. "You again! Stop doing this! I'm not your plaything!" She yelled at him, trying to get out of his grasp. But she couldn't and he would not allow her.

"Stop squirming," he commanded gently, voice slow and silky. "You can't win over me, Hermione. You will want me."

She then felt his warm breath on her neck. His mouth showered her neck with small kisses that left her breathless. He traced her face with his mouth from her neck, to her jaw, to her right earlobe, sucking it gently. She gasped at this action and tried again to be free from his grasp but he only held her tighter. Shifting one of her hands so that both of her hands were now over her head, he straddled her, leaving her no room to move. He then stopped his kisses and his hands brushed the hair off her face.

"You are so lovely. Do you know that, Hermione?" he asked sultrily, hands tracing her jaw, to her neck, to her collar bone, down to…

"Please stop! I...I don't want this," she pleaded. She knew that she was utterly helpless now. All she could do was to reason with him. "Stop this now, please. Just...just leave me alone."

A moment passed before he answered. "I'm sorry but I can't stop, love. I've waited for you for so long. Don't worry, I won't hurt you. I just want you to know what I feel."

"And how would raping me help with that, you bastard!" she spat furiously, squirming but far from being freed.

He chuckled. "This will not be rape, love, because you will beg for more."

"Never!" she answered.

"We'll see," he whispered in her ear, continuing his ministrations.

His mouth once again travelled to her neck, sucking and kissing her. She moaned aloud when his hand brushed her plump breasts. She was breathing hard. She couldn't believe that she was already aroused. His hand was so warm. "Stop this now, please. Please."

"I won't love. I know that your body wants this." He continued his actions as he caught her mouth and kissed it deeply. In response, Hermione closed it instantly. He smiled against her lips before he went for her neck and cupped her right breast, massaging it gently. But she didn't budge. He stopped his actions and went lower to touch her bare stomach. His left hand went up, up to her breasts once again, pushing aside her bra, baring her breasts to his touch. He stopped sucking on her neck.

"I've always imagined doing this to you, love." Then he cupped her bare breast, massaging it, making a circular motion over her nipple that sent a moan to her lips. He immediately invaded her mouth with his soft tongue. Coaxing, pleading, gentle. His hand continued to massage her right breast.

Hermione couldn't help but moan with desire. She had never felt anything this pleasurable before. Kisses were the only thing that she had been willing to share with her previous boyfriends. And there were not many. Apart from Viktor Krum and Ron, the only real relationship she had was with a Muggle named Ryan. She found out that he was playing her, though, so she ended it immediately.

She was caught off-guard when she suddenly felt his hand lift her shirt up. She couldn't see the phantom-like shadow clearly so she waited for what his next action would be, arching her back and gasping loudly when she felt his tongue lick her nipple. She moaned when he did it again. He was drawing circles on her breast using his tongue before sucking her breast gently. A pool of warm liquid flowed to her knickers. His breath was so warm on her skin, goose bumps formed where he touched and licked.

"Oh…!" she moaned in surprise and pleasure.

He shifted his other hand and his right hand was now holding her wrists. He repeated his actions to her left breast. Hermione's mind was clouded with lust and pleasure but a part of her mind still urged her to fight him off. What am I doing? Why am I letting him do this to me? She knew that she must stop him but she couldn't. The pleasure was too overwhelming and she wanted to feel more.

"More…" she moaned.

His mouth travelled to her lips. "I knew you'd beg for more," he murmured and captured her mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged into it, tasting her, owning her. Hermione couldn't hold it anymore and she started to kiss him back. Reluctantly at first, but he waited for her, until the intensity of their kiss was the same. Both moaned into each other's mouth as he removed his hold on her wrists before his hands continued to travel over her body, touching every bare bit of skin, memorizing every curve. Hermione's arms went into his head. He was warm even though she could only see his hazy figure. They kissed as if there was no tomorrow. Then he pulled away from her.

Hermione opened her eyes with a start. She was back in her room. Her lips were slightly swollen, her knickers wet with arousal.

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><p>AN: Did you like it, hate it, so-so? This was a bit longer because I updated so late. Tell me your reactions/suggestions, especially with that last, um, scene. Your reviews fuel me. Anyway, thank you for reading!


	6. A Plan and a Proposition

Chapter 6: A Plan and a Proposition

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. If it is, then Hermione would end up with dear Draco. No profit is being made off of this story.

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><p>Hermione looked around her room. She was sitting in her bed, her arms hugging her legs in front of her. She was back at the confines of her own flat. Gone was the massive room, the equally huge bed and the shadow-like man who infiltrated her dream once more. Her right hand wandered to her lips, tracing its soft curves. They were a bit swollen, clearly because of the intense kiss that she and the dream-man shared. Closing her eyes, she furrowed her brow as she rested her head on her knees. She couldn't believe herself. How could she allow him to do those things to her? And how could she answer it with equal passion and desire?<p>

"Am I that desperate?" she asked herself loudly. She shook her head a couple of times and said "Maybe, I'm going crazy."

The sensations were still fresh in her mind. She could still remember how the phantom man caressed her lips; how he touched her in places that no one had ever touched before; how his silky voice made her shiver in anticipation; how he used his mouth to pleasure her and most of all, she remembered how she responded to him and how she got lost in the sensations that flooded her mind and body.

She had never felt anything like this before. Hermione tightened her grip on her legs, could still feel the unfamiliar sensation of being aroused. Merlin, her knickers were drenched! She was still thankful, though, that she was still wearing her bra and shirt, although the latter looked creased in odd places.

Hermione tried to remember his voice. Like the first time she heard it, she thought that it was eerily familiar, as if she had heard it a thousand times before, but she still couldn't place who the voice belonged to. Her heart was still hammering in her chest and she didn't know what to feel or think. She knew that the dreams had to stop and anyone in her position would be concerned. She was concerned, no, she was disturbed and bothered enough that she knew she couldn't sleep anymore.

Her mind, now that dream-man was gone, could finally take control of her actions. She didn't want this feeling of helplessness that was starting to grow in her chest. She could counter whatever spell she was in and everything would be normal again if she only tried harder to look for the book by Bartholomew Trevisa. If not, there had to be some similar cases that transpired before. There must be some book or scroll in the wizarding world that could at least help her.

No, she wouldn't give up. She was Hermione Granger. She had fought Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. She wouldn't back down from whoever was messing with her dreams. It was wrong of her to relax and to think that that her nightly visits were over. She should have known better. She had to fight the feelings that were forming inside of her. It was just so wrong to feel anything towards someone she didn't even know, much less someone who intruded into her dreams.

The sudden change in Hermione's attitude could be clearly seen in her eyes. Fear of the unknown was now replaced by a burning desire to uncover this mystery that she was entangled in. She would find out the person behind this and would let him know that Hermione was not to be trifled with!

She straightened up and let her feet touch the panelled floor. She needed to make herself clean because after that experience she felt somewhat dirty.

He had been following her since their meeting in the Ministry Library. He knew that his Gryffindor would research and want to learn about her nightly guest. He would only watch her as he knew that confronting her and telling her about his feelings would not bode well for him. He considered simply telling Hermione that he had been harbouring romantic feelings for her since their sixth year and thought of her possible reactions.

There was a possibility that she would give him a chance if he came clean in front of her, but there was also the higher probability that she would disregard him or maybe even laugh in his face. He was sure that the latter was more likely to happen. They had been at each other's throat since their first year and it would be impossible to change Hermione's view of him without using Slytherin ways. Their conversation in the library was proof of that.

Even after years of putting so much effort into improving their reputation, the wizarding community still held reservations in trusting his family. Maybe the reason behind it was because of the lenient punishment that his family received from the Wizengamot; or maybe the simple fact that they were Malfoys, a family known for its connection and fascination with the Dark Arts, which was not untrue.

Apparently, the donations and charity events that her mother planned and accomplished were not enough to ease the feelings of the people. Other pureblood families were in the same boat as them, although those who remained neutral during the Second Wizarding War fared better.

It was Friday night and he stood guard in the apartment next to hers. He wanted to know her plan of action, where she would head to and how she would conduct her research. Hermione was oblivious to the fact that her dream-man, the phantom-like shadow that visited her sleep for more than a week now was staying in the flat next door. Draco didn't often stay there. He only used it when the urge to see her was too much to bear and their _accidental _meeting in the Ministry Library heightened the need to be near her. He had been using the flat every now and then for almost six years at present, since the time Hermione had acquired her flat. He had chosen it for the sole purpose of being near to her.

Draco chuckled at this thought. "Oh, I bet she will be furious to know that I was the one visiting her every night and to think that I'm staying in a flat next to hers," he said to himself while sprawled out on a very regal mahogany lounge chair in the corner of his flat. He could almost see the surprise in her face, the widened caramel eyes, the slightly parted, tempting lips and her riotous curls that seemed to lure his hands to feel its silkiness. How he missed the banter and the retorts that they had when they were just kids.

He stayed there that night and followed Hermione tto Manchester the next morning. It was easy enough because he knew that that was Hermione's favourite muggle library even though the staff was mostly magical. He used polyjuice potion to change his appearance and when he was nearing the structure he used a powerful Disillusionment Charm to hide himself in order to be able to follow her wherever she went. He didn't visit Hermione's dreams for a couple of days. He wanted her to be at ease and relaxed when he struck. And that's exactly what happened that Monday night.

Draco was woken by a stream of sunlight through the drawn curtains of the window near his bed. He waved his right hand and immediately the curtains were closed once again. Closing his eyes, he placed a huge pillow over his face and promised himself to scold whoever opened the curtains that early in the morning. But then memories of the night before flowed into his mind. His lips curved and formed, not a smirk, but a genuine smile. He could still hear her voice, her low moans and her pleadings. Oh, it was all music to his ears, and he meant to hear it again and again and again.

Sleep would not come to him anymore so he opened his eyes. He was already rock hard just remembering her sultry moans. He didn't go all the way last night because he wanted their first time together to be special, a union that both of them would never forget. Not in dreams. Not in the dimension that he created but in the world they both lived in. He pulled the sheets covering his half-naked body and went into the huge bathroom connected to his room to relieve himself of desire and lust for his brunette witch.

Tuesday was his favourite among the days of the week. It was the only time when he could go to the Ministry without arousing suspicion from nosy wizards and witches. He was expected in the Minister's office to discuss the status of the research projects that he supported, as well as the additional contributions that he would give. He lied to Hermione when he said that he was working for the Ministry. He, Draco Malfoy, was the only heir to their family's wealth. Of course, he didn't have to work. He could spend his time idly, lounging around the Manor or in one of their vacation houses, and he would still be living as comfortably as a king.

But he had responsibilities now. His father was still under house arrest, probably for a couple more of years, so he had to take over the family businesses, ranging from wizarding to muggle investments. Well, technically, it could be said that he was working for the government. If one could consider the contributions and grants that he had given to various departments and branches of the Ministry, it could be deduced that he had a hand in how the country was progressing.

Draco walked down the hall leading to the double doors of the Minister's office, striding confidently, robes billowing dramatically behind him, arms swaying gracefully at his sides, grey eyes trained to his front, platinum blond hair bouncing slightly over his eyes. He made a perfect picture of a mysterious man: someone who inspired awe, fear, dread, even reverence. The name Malfoy only added more authority to his already entrancing presence.

When he reached the end of the hallway, he knocked on the door with a gloved hand. A scurrying of feet was heard on the other side and then it was opened by a young wizard with dark hair and dark eyes.

"Good morning, Mr. Malfoy. This way please," the youngster said, motioning for Draco to follow him to his boss' office. "The Minister is at an emergency meeting right now. Would it be okay if you wait here?"

"It seems that I don't have a choice," Draco answered coldly.

The assistant fidgeted and kept his gaze at the floor.

"W-would you like some tea or perhaps – "

"I don't need anything," he interrupted, walking to a chair in front of the minister's desk and making himself comfortable.

"If...if you say so, sir" the young wizard stuttered. "If you need anything I'm in the other room." He took a last look at Draco and closed the door, thankful that he was finally out of sight of the imposing wizard.

Draco didn't care about the young assistant's reaction, he was used to that. People were either so afraid of him that they avoided his gaze or they were so intrigued that they stared at him. His meeting with the Minister was an important one. He could wait for ten minutes, twenty, even hours, for this meeting. Not because it involved supporting a research that could produce an earth-shaking result, not because it meant that his name would go a notch higher on the list of reformed families of the British wizarding community. This meeting was important, monumental even, because it involved the witch that he had desired for years. The door opened and admitted Anselm Gudridge, the Minister for Magic who went straight to Malfoy and shook his hand.

"Morning, Mr. Malfoy. Sorry for the wait. Terrible business got me caught up," Gudridge said too cheerily.

Draco's left brow went up in amusement. "It's quite all right, Minister," he said politely, not wanting to fall out of the good graces of the person who could help him achieve his end. "I hope the meeting was over nothing too grave."

"It was not too serious, lad. Just a bit of miscommunication between departments, is all."

"I see. I don't want to waste any more of your time, Minister, so I will get to the heart of the matter."

"No worries, Mr. Malfoy. I know that you're also busy with your commitments. Let's get down to business, shall we?"

Gudridge went to his desk and settled himself behind it as Draco took his seat and started the conversation.

"I hope you've read my latest proposition, sir. I was hoping to start it as soon as possible." His eyes gleamed while speaking.

"Yes, I've read it, Mr. Malfoy. I think it's wonderful! Ms. Granger will be absolutely delighted."

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><p>AN: What will happen next? What will Hermione do? And what is Draco's proposition? Stay tuned and find out. Reviews! Reviews! If you have any suggestions, don't hesitate to say it. Just sharing with you guys, I find it easier to write Draco's perspective. I don't know why.

Thanks for reading, loves!


	7. Reaction and Revelation

Chapter 7: Reaction and Revelation

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. They belong to the great JK Rowling who's good enough to let people like me play with the wonderful world she created. I am certain that no profit is being made off of this.

Surprise! An early update! Yee!

This chapter is so Hermione-centric. I promise to give you some Draco in the next one. I want to express my gratitude to those who reviewed so far. You guys rock! Cheers to all HP fans out there! $250 million in just a few days! Woah! Anyway, review, loves and thanks for reading in advance!

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><p>Just as she thought, Hermione didn't sleep a wink after what happened. Her mind almost worked on overdrive, contemplating what she should do again. It was just four in the morning but she decided to take a very early morning shower. She changed into a new set of clothes and helped herself to a cup of tea while waiting for the sun to rise and for her day to commence.<p>

She was in her kitchen which, like the whole flat, had walls painted white. The drawers and cabinets were also in the same tone. The saving grace would be the granite wall behind the sink and the stove, giving the whole area a minimal sense of vibrancy. Ginny Weasley commented when she first saw the apartment that it was so boring and so office-like, but it suited the brunette, saying that the simplicity was comforting.

Hermione sat at one of the three chairs in her kitchen sipping tea whilst remembering the events of her weekend. She thought that her visit to Manchester was almost useless. Aside from a brief entry on the author of '_Somnium Universitas'_ and his sojourn to France, nothing of importance was mentioned. She could only surmise that the book was in France but even that was questionable. In the centre of the table was a vase housing the full bloom roses she got from her office. Beside it was the copy of the chapter from the library. She had been staring at the parchment for 15 minutes or so, her mind wandering to her dream.

The few dreamless nights had made her relax, made her more vulnerable, and she could only blame herself for that.

_Maybe that's his plan. Make me think that it's already over and then strike when I least expect it. Where's the 'constant vigilance' that I practiced during the War? Just a few years have passed and now I'm already careless._

Hermione wanted to shake the memories out of her head, for the sensations to be gone. She didn't want to remember any of it, but her mind had a will of its own; it wouldn't listen to her or follow her command. Instead, everything kept on repeating and repeating. Every time she closed her eyes, every sensation, every sound continued to resurface in her mind. It was as if she was transported back to the huge room, he on top of her, his warmth trapping her will to say no. Everything was still so fresh, so real, so…so right?

She opened her eyes with a start, shocked at her own thoughts.

"No!" she said with force. "I don't want this! I don't want any of his touches! I don't want to ever hear his voice again! I don't want to dream of him!" she shouted to herself hysterically, her voice filling her small kitchen.

She was stunned at her outburst. When had her emotions been so out of control? When had she become so emotional? When had she even started to develop some sort of feelings for the man who'd invaded her nights?

She took deep breaths to calm herself, her knuckles white from clenching the edge of the table.

_I need to stay calm, _she said, soothing herself_. Everything's fine as long as I'm awake._

It took her a couple of minutes and another cup of tea to fully compose herself_._ She let out a long sigh.

_I need to think properly. Nothing good will come out of this if I let myself be swayed by my emotions._

Hermione collected her thoughts once again and poured herself another cup of tea. She went to her living room, sat on her couch and placed the cup on the side table as she closed her eyes, willing herself to think of a plan to solve her problems. This time she was successful.

The fact that the Ministry had already attempted and failed to look for the book weighed heavily on her mind. Should she continue her search in France? That was the most logical thing to do, but going to France would mean that she would spend a vast amount of time away from the Ministry and she had a job to do. Aside from heading the sub-department on House-elf rights, she also led the branch that oversaw the welfare of legendary beings that were slowly dying out. She couldn't possibly go to France while doing her Ministry job. Another option was to take leave for maybe a few days or weeks, but Hermione couldn't bear the thought that she would leave and let other people handle her work. She decided that she would not leave the country…yet. She would check another library.

The memory of the very first wizarding library that she fell in love with came to her mind. The feeling of awe and wonder when she first laid eyes on the place would never be erased from her memory. She could almost see her eleven-year-old self walking along the aisles of the Hogwarts library, touching the spines of the books on the shelves that she passed by, breathing the air filled with the scent of old paper and leather. She had spent almost half of her time in the place that she thought of as a sanctuary. She had never seen the book '_Somnium Universitas' _there but she kept her hopes up.

The thought of her previous school made her heart clench in sadness and joy; bittersweet were the memories etched into the walls and grounds of the castle. The previous Headmaster who was loved by almost everyone was gone, and the potions master that she both hated and admired would never again walk the halls and dungeons of the castle. They were still children at that time and it pained her to think that most of her friends had to give up that part of their lives.

Hermione instantly remembered Harry and Ron, her best friends. Her mind told her to tell them her latest dream. She knew that her boys would be by her side to help and comfort her. Harry, with his calm exterior, would surely say that they would find a way to stop the dreams and Ron, with his impulsive temper, would add that he would make sure that whoever was messing with her nights would be hexed into oblivion.

But as much as she wanted to be enveloped in comfort and reassurance, Hermione decided to solve this alone. She was never the type of person who totally relied on others. Most of the time, she was the one who was doing the comforting. She prided herself on being capable, of being the one who knew the answers, and right now, not knowing the reasons behind these dreams made her angry with herself. Her best friends only knew that she was having recurring dreams. The newest development, she decided, would remain known only to her. She would fix this alone. She would solve this through her own efforts and while at it, she would make sure that she wouldn't be overwhelmed by her own feelings anymore, especially that unrecognized feeling for the phantom-like being that haunted her sleep.

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><p><em>Tuesday afternoon<em>

It was already an hour after her lunch break and Hermione was on her way to the office of the Minister. A memo arrived saying that she was needed for a very important meeting. Clad in dark blue robes, underneath which, was a knee length black skirt partnered with a white blouse, her hair was done in a tight bun with some wayward curls evading the knot. Simple and comfortable. That's what she preferred, especially when she was working.

The people were a blur to her and she to them. She was walking fast with her head almost bowed down, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Hermione was a bit worried about this meeting because a rumour had spread that her branch, which concerned House-elves, was going to be transferred to another's hands. She had been leading the branch for almost three years now and she couldn't find a reason why they would want to hand it over to someone else since she was doing a pretty good job. Heck, not just a pretty good job. Advocates like herself and civilians alike had already commended her efforts and successes in that area but a higher percentage of wizards and witches still continued to believe that what she was doing was rubbish and a total waste of time. She didn't care about their opinions, but those same wizards and witches were her bosses, so their beliefs were crucial.

Turning the last corner leading to the office, head down and still walking briskly, she bumped into something hard and warm. Eyes closed, she was expecting the pull of gravity, when a pair of strong hands caught her arms, preventing her fall.

"That's the second time," the voice drawled.

_Please, let it not be him. Let it not be him, s_he prayed. _I don't want to ever see that git again._

She wanted to just run away, perfectly sure that it was that person again. _When was the last time that I saw him? Oh, Friday. And I also bumped into him that day. Of all the misfortune that could befall me, why does it have to be that fer-_

"When are you going to open your eyes, Granger? Or are you planning on sleeping while standing at the corridor?" the voice asked mockingly, stopping her train of thought. His hands immediately released her arms.

She finally opened her eyes and looked up at her _saviour_. "Thank you for your kindness, _Malfoy_," she said sarcastically, stressing his last name. "It won't happen again. I was just a bit…preoccupied with my thoughts."

"I am sure you are. I wonder when the time will come that a know-it-all like you will not be preoccupied with her musings on how to save the world, or are your charity cases already dwindling?" he smirked.

His voice expressed sarcasm but his eyes told a different story. They were boring into her, conveying something that she couldn't understand. The swirls of grey were entrancing, seeming to rob her of her own will. She blinked and the spell was over.

"I..I'll be going now," she said while slapping herself internally for not coming up with any retort. She tried to walk past him, but he blocked her way. When she tried the other way he only repeated the action. He was making use of his larger build to annoy her.

Hermione huffed in exasperation. "You're an annoying, thoughtless, inconsiderate prat, Malfoy!" she screeched. "I have a meeting with the Minister in..." she looked at her wristwatch, "five minutes. So could you get out of my way and out of my sight? Now!"

She wanted him to cringe like Harry and Ron would do when she used that tone, but he only stood his ground and continued to smirk at her.

Hermione closed her eyes and lifted her head as if murmuring a prayer to the heavens. _Years have passed but he's still the same spoiled brat he was at school. Goodness! _Opening her eyes, she gave him the coldest glare that she could muster. With that, she walked past him, making sure that her robes wouldn't touch the all-black outfit of the blond.

She was stopped immediately by the larger hand of the same wizard. His fingers were curled around her delicate-looking wrist; his pale complexion contrasting slightly with her own skin tone. The hand holding her was warm, his touch familiar. Hermione looked at their point of connection with furrowed brows and then looked at his eyes. She tried to form a question but he beat her to it.

"Get used to this, _Hermione_. This will not be the last time that we'll be _sharing_ our thoughts," he said meaningfully before letting go of her wrist and turning, brandishing his dark robes in the process, an action that could rival that of Snape.

Hermione stood rooted, unsure of what to think of the blond's statement. _Get used to what? What does he mean by us sharing thoughts? And my name, he said my name. Coming from him it sounded strangely familiar but I'm quite sure this was the first time I've heard him say it._

The brunette stared at his retreating form as she suddenly remembered her appointment. She turned towards the hall reluctantly and took a last glance at her school nemesis. She was surprised to see that he was also looking at her. She twisted her head towards the Minister's office and resumed her brisk walk.

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><p>"That's impossible, Minister! He wouldn't do anything like that! He wouldn't sully himself. Maybe... maybe the documents got mixed up. Draco Malfoy wouldn't fund anything that's connected with me," the brunette reasoned to the Minister.<p>

Hermione couldn't believe what she had just heard. The meeting with the Minister was not about the transfer of the sub-branch but of supporting her proposed project on legendary/mythical creatures. The said project, which she submitted to her bosses almost four years ago, aimed to establish an institution that would cater to the dwindling legendary beings in Britain. This involved their maintenance, support, protection, and if possible, research. It was rather grand, even to Hermione, but that's what was needed. These creatures were dwindling fast and the government, as usual, was turning a blind eye. She had already lost hope that it would reach the Minister because, well, four years had already passed, and it was not a secret that only a few people were interested in her cause. So, what the heck was the Minister saying? Draco Malfoy, the one who she just had a confrontation with, the ferret, would fund her project? It couldn't be. How did he even know of her project? There must be some mistake, she was sure of it.

"Calm down, Ms. Granger. I know that this must come as a surprise to you, but Mr. Malfoy himself talked to me about this. We just finished discussing it when you arrived," answered the elderly wizard.

"But it couldn't be, Minister. It's Malfoy we're talking about here. Of course, you know that we have our history from Hogwarts... " she trailed off.

"Exactly, Ms. Granger. Don't you think Mr. Malfoy is being noble here? He's willing to overlook your not-so-friendly past and support an honourable cause, your cause."

"But I'm a Mu-Muggleborn, sir. Surely this fact is an issue with him."

"My dear, my dear! We all know that the Malfoy's do not hold to that rubbish anymore. They have proven that for these past seven years."

"But Minister..." she knew that it was a lost cause to argue.

It didn't seem rational to her that someone like Draco Malfoy would help her. If they were at least acquaintances then she wouldn't be as surprised as she was now, but they weren't. She was sure that Malfoy viewed her as the same know-it-all as at Hogwarts. He just expressed it a few minutes ago, but the question remained: Why?

Hermione knew that the Malfoy's had been active in funding research and foundations in England. Even before the War, the family had been busy showing the whole wizarding community that their coffers at Gringott's were overflowing. With the ending of the War and with Lucius' house arrest, their _aid_ in various fields only doubled, tripled even, to show to everyone that they were willing to change and bend with the new administration.

The wizarding community was not foolish as everyone thought it was. Many still regarded the Malfoy's as Dark Wizards, but time could change so many things and the Malfoy family was slowly crawling its way back onto its pedestal.

"So, Ms. Granger, I believe your Department Head, Mr. Lanphear, is planning a meeting at this moment. After your discussion with him, I expect that you will immediately contact Mr. Malfoy. It's imperative for the both of you to discuss the details of the project. I trust that you will treat him as cordially as you would treat a regular sponsor. Don't forget that he's doing you a great service here," Minister Gudridge expressed sternly.

Hermione bit her lip. She didn't have a choice, right?

"Of course, Minister Gudridge. This is a very huge undertaking and I know that I will need the help of a person as...as influential as Mr. Malfoy," she answered, sounding a little dejected.

"Very well! I say that this meeting is over, Ms. Granger. Do you have anymore questions?"

"None, sir. Thank you for your time."

Hermione stood up and shook hands with the Minister with a smile that didn't reach her caramel-coloured eyes.

"Alright, off you go now," the Minister ended.

She immediately went to the door and opened it. Before shutting it behind her, she was sure she heard the Minister enthusiastically say that "the Prophet will be all over this once it starts".

She could only heave at that.

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><p>Hermione trod the same hallways of the first level of the Ministry. The <em>revelation<em>, yes that's what she termed it, made her feel disappointed. She knew that it was wrong to feel that way but she couldn't help it. He as the sponsor of her project almost implied that he was doing her a favour, as if she was indebted to him. She didn't loathe him but she also didn't hold him in the highest regard. He had toned down his mockery of her and her friends but he was still Draco Malfoy.

But the fact that he was _funding_ her project meant that she could finally carry out her plans and many would surely benefit from it. Even though she didn't want to admit it to herself, she knew she should be grateful. Not everyone was given this kind of opportunity.

_So, this is what he meant when he said _'get used to this'. _But what will he get from helping me? Surely there are other projects on hold that could give him more public attention. Aside from the Malfoy name being engraved on the main building of the institution, nothing of consequence would move him to help me. He also didn't need to boost his reputation. If he wanted the public to treat him in a more agreeable manner, he could focus his attention on more salient issues such as the incorporation of Muggle practices in healing. And why is he being so strange?_

Their meeting last Friday was the first in almost two or three years. She had seen him in a couple of Ministry gatherings but that's where it ended. They didn't talk, didn't even as much as acknowledge each other. Nothing! And in their meeting last Friday, she remembered that he was almost nice to her. Apart from the usual bookworm taunt, he didn't say anything more, he just looked at her intensely, the same as he did almost an hour ago, only, if possible, his gaze was deeper and more profound.

She remembered his voice. _Why did it seem so familiar to hear him say my first name? _She diverted her thoughts to the project that he would subsidize. _Why now? Why me?_

Hermione continued this train of thought until she reached the lift. She was the lone person waiting which was extremely unnatural at that time of day. The elevator was still five floors from her, the others were the same. She stiffened as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up in alarm and her eyes widened at the familiar sensation of being watched. It was the same feeling when she was in Manchester. Hearing the sound of footsteps, her hands clenched on her wand instinctively. She couldn't take it anymore. Slowly, she turned her head to look behind her, squinting her eyes and trying to see through the shadows in the alcoves created from the arch that supported the structure. No living soul was in sight. The footsteps immediately died when she turned her head.

She gasped loudly when she heard the tinkle of the bell indicating that the lift had arrived. The door swung loudly and she entered hastily and pushed the button indicating Level Four.

Only when she was in the confines of the contraption did she realize that she was shaking, cold sweat on her brow. She leaned her back on the metal wall and tried to relax, the buzzing sound of machine helping decrease her uneasiness.

Hermione was thankful that there were very few people when she exited the lift. She immediately opened the door to her branch and was welcomed by the sight of her co-workers. Some were at their respective cubicles poring over stacks of parchments, a few were heading to the coffee area, while others were busy chatting with one another.

She ignored them all and went straight to her office. Some caught sight of her and threw worried looks at their boss. She usually gave some form of rant whenever they were lounging around so it was a surprise that she didn't deliver any, to add to that was her pallid face.

Slumping ungracefully in her chair, she clasped her fingers to support her head. Merlin! She was terrified but what was worse was that she didn't know why she was afraid in the first place. She had been in graver situations before. What she just experienced paled in comparison to what she faced daily during the War. No, it wasn't even comparable. She ran from whoever was following her, the same as she did in Chetham's Library. She was terrified but she was more disappointed with herself.

Conjuring a hankie, she wiped the cold sweat from her face. She needed to sort herself out.

Twenty-three minutes later, a knock came at her door. It was Dahlia, her assistant. The Department Head was asking for her. Good thing she was already composed. She had also finished her letter to Headmistress McGonagall for her visit to Hogwarts.

"Are you sure you're alright, Ms. Hermione? You didn't look very well when you entered the office," asked Dahlia, genuine concern on her face and in her voice. "Did something happen with your meeting with the Minister?"

"Everything's fine," Hermione lied. "I should say great, even. I guess you will hear the good news after this talk with Mr. Lanphear." She gave a small reassuring smile at her assistant. "And Dahlia, would you mind sending this letter? It's a bit urgent."

"Of course, boss."

She was about to close the door, with her assistant in front of her, when she caught sight of the white roses on her desk and she reminded herself to take a couple of those lovely flowers home. It helped her pacify her distraught nerves.

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><p>AN: You, yes, you. Who else could I be talking to? Since you're reading this I will unashamedly assume that you already know the drill. Okay? Review! Once again, thanks for reading AND reviewing. Tell me your thoughts.

For those who are wondering...

_Somnium _(Latin)dreams and _Universitas _(also Latin) world or universe

Combining the two = World of Dreams

And of course, I made it up. :)


	8. Sunlight and Sunflowers

Chapter 8: Sunlight and Sunflowers

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. I wish I was making some profit from this but too bad I'm not.

Read and review! Hope you enjoy this one.

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><p>The meeting with the executives of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures went exceedingly slowly. It took a total of three hours, thirty-eight minutes and sixteen seconds for the assembly to convey their thoughts and additional remarks for the project of a certain Hermione Granger.<p>

It was fifteen minutes before eight that the assembly finally concluded their conference. Everyone looked contented and pleased that their department was finally getting the attention of sponsors, and a big one if anyone was referring to the Malfoys. When the meeting proper ended, Hermione was immediately bombarded with congratulations and compliments from her co-workers, even by their Head, Mr. Lanphear, who was known to be very hard to please.

"Well done, Ms. Granger," he said stiffly. Their Head was not known for being expressive when it came to feelings and emotions, much less praising his workers. "I'm…glad that you made another development in our department. This will undoubtedly show to the _others_ that we're as capable as anyone or anything in this Ministry."

"The pleasure's all mine, sir. I'm just doing what I think is best for the beings that we serve but I don't think that I'm the only one who should receive the praise that you've given me. The people in my branch worked hard to help me with this proposal."

"I see. You can extend my congratulations to them."

"I'll see to it, sir."

As handshakes and praises were exchanged, Hermione casually plastered a smile on her face, wondering if they really meant what they said. After a moment of small talk and cheer, she was finally free from the grasp of her over-enthusiastic colleagues. She couldn't blame them, though. It's not every day that someone from her department received a grant. Most philanthropists preferred more famous ones such as the Department of Mysteries or the Department of Magical Law Enforcement or other private organizations, for that matter.

While walking back to her own sub-department, her mind wandered to the enigma that was the infamous Draco Malfoy. She thought she would only consider herself truly lucky and blessed if only her sponsor wasn't him. It would've been better if it was his mother who offered the help because it was she who was more active in this kind of affair. But no, it had to be him. And it wasn't simply the fact that it was him who was going to back her up, it was because he was the one who initiated the offer, not with the head of her department but to the minister himself. To Hermione, this action was not only suspicious but also dubious.

She opened the oak door, instantly saw her bag and picked it up. There was still a pile of papers that needed to be re-evaluated, she remembered. On top of it was the copy of her proposal. She needed to review every detail of it and if possible improve them. She wanted to show Malfoy that her project was worth his galleons. Even though it was still a month before the official meeting with her sponsor, she wanted him to know that she hadn't lost her touch, as some people claimed. Taking a last look at her desk, then to her whole office, she nodded her head in the affirmative.

_Time to go home._

Turning off the light, she suddenly saw the silhouette of the flowers and the vase on her window ledge. The artificial light outside made the white roses grim and depressing.

_Oh! I almost forgot_, she thought. "You have better use in my home than here at the office"_, _she said to the inanimate object while striding forward to get a couple of stems. She contented herself with five, cast a spell to retain their freshness, deposited them in her bag and went to her door and closed it.

Walking down the halls of the Ministry at night was a thing she enjoyed, especially when the place was deserted. The thud of her heels against the floor was a rhythm she knew. She looked with wonder upon the eeriness of her surroundings. The shadows only held mysteries to be uncovered and not to be feared. The essence of magic in the air was soothing. But not this night; this night she was cautious, guarded. Every shadow or immediate noise was deemed suspicious.

_Constant vigilance, constant vigilance,_ she chanted while remaining alert.

The incident that afternoon was enough to switch her battle mode on. Even during and after her unannounced meeting with her bosses, she kept her senses up. The increasing incidence of being watched and observed was disconcerting and she wouldn't take any chances. Not anymore. She would be on guard. Even though she had doubts if she really was being followed by someone tonight, she would trust her instincts. They had saved her a dozen of times already, and right now, even though the environment was tranquil, she would still hold on to its declaration that afternoon. Someone followed her in the hall near the minister's office and she was sure that it was the same entity as at Chetham's Library.

Her eyes scanned the last corridor leading to the lift. There were two people waiting for the elevator. One was a tall man that looked scrawny, even with the robes that he wore. He donned a very pointed hat that only added to his height. Beside him was a woman with waist-length, blonde hair. There were streaks of blue in her otherwise fair head. She was wearing a lime green robe that covered her legs and feet. Hermione knew exactly who she was and hurried her steps to talk to her friend, Luna Lovegood.

Before even uttering her friend's name though, the blonde already tilted her head as if she knew that Hermione was approaching her.

" Hermione," she said dreamily. She now turned her body so that she was facing her.

The brunette smiled and hugged her. "You're back, Luna!" she stated. "I missed you! It's been months since we last saw each other. Any luck with the Crumple-horned Snorkack? And what are you doing here? I thought you're still spending another month in Papua New Guinea."

Luna was a naturalist who travelled the world in search of strange creatures, leaving her little spare time to be around her friends. She worked for a private organization that specialized in that field of study. There were times that Luna consulted Hermione and vice versa since the nature of their work was related.

The blonde hugged Hermione back but didn't answer her inquiry. She only looked at the brunette wistfully and touched her right cheek.

"Is something bothering you, Hermione? There's something…new, different, about you," she said slowly ignoring Hermione's questions.

Hermione couldn't think of anything to answer so she just smiled.

"There's nothing new about me, Luna. Maybe you're just adjusting. You've been on the other side of the world for two months."

"Hmmm...," the blonde only looked at her as if she was a new creature she just discovered. "Is that so? If you say so, Mione," she finally smiled.

The lift arrived and they went inside. The blonde retained her dreamy look and voice while relaying the sights and the new creatures that she'd seen and discovered. The brunette, on the other hand, tried to follow Luna's stories, nodding her head and mumbling words of agreement every time she deemed it was necessary. She knew it was rude of her to be inattentive, especially to a friend she hadn't seen for months but her words, Luna's words, were stuck in her mind.

_What could possibly be different about me? Nothing new has happened except for my abnormal dreams. It couldn't have affected me physically. Well, I'm not having the same amount of sleep since... when did it start again? Ah, two weeks ago. And it couldn't have affected me, right? A couple of additional bags under my eyes are nothing new. Or maybe it's something else. Luna is the most perceptive person I know. Maybe, maybe something _is _different. I want to ask her but…_she looked at her friend, Luna was waving her hand while giving a very descriptive picture of the mountains in the Highlands…_but I'm sure that it's still too early. I haven't told Harry or Ron, or even Ginny about the latest development in my dreams and the stalking, and I'm not planning on telling them either. I know that I can do this alone. All I need is a little more time to further my research and I know I will get somewhere._

"…so I've been to this really majestic mountain called Mount Wilhelm and I think I've finally seen a real Ropen, as Muggles there call it. But I think it's a relative of the dragons, don't you think, Mione?" Luna looked at her expectantly.

Hermione was woken from her musings, eyes opening and closing rapidly. "Ahh...yes, yes. I think they are," she answered without really knowing the topic of their conversation. _It was something about mountains_, _and...and…_

Luna looked at her with a small smile on her lips. "It's alright. The Umgubular Slashkilter is known to distract people. Maybe the one owned by Fudge is still here in the Ministry," she said slowly, retaining her dreamy tone and ignoring Hermione's inattentiveness.

Hermione was thankful for Luna's ever present understanding of when to ask questions because she honestly didn't know what to tell her. She wasn't ready to disclose anything to her friends yet.

They exited the lift and walked the short way leading to the fireplaces. Unbeknownst to them, a pair of grey eyes was focused on their forms. It strayed to the blonde's retreating back but lingered on the brunette.

He smirked when he saw the sudden change in her stride. It was stiff and calculated, as if she sensed the piercing stare. The atrium was still full of people so he wasn't worried about being caught. He continued looking at her until the two friends waved goodbye to each other and proceeded to floo to their respective destinations.

_I know where you're going, love, but I'm afraid I can't accompany you now. Later, I promise I will be with you later tonight_.

He was playing with the petals of a single white rose in his hand. Lifting it to his patrician nose, he smelt the fragrance that he knew the brunette loved.

* * *

><p>The manor was lit with soft lights. A person outside in the late September chill would surely long for the warm glow that the house emitted. The curtains and draperies were designed so as to give off a sense of comfort and homeliness in the otherwise huge, cold, haunting house. Pictures and paintings of ancestors lined its walls. Flowers of various origins could be spotted in strategic places, on tables, in little corners, their scent filling the air. Every room was graced by the highest quality furniture and rugs.<p>

Seeing the manor in its present state, no one would think that it once housed the darkest wizard the magical world had ever seen. The time when Lord Voldemort occupied the house and property, and his merciless mission for Draco to uphold the family name, only proved that the Dark Lord was willing to sacrifice every one of them all, the Malfoys and all his servants, just to attain his goals. His Death Eaters were merely playthings that he knew he could replace immediately. They were dispensable objects, not even life-long service was enough to spare the child of one of his most loyal servants. The reverence that they had given him was exposed as only fear, backed by intimidation, coercion and manipulation. They were simply puppets. He viewed them as things that would answer to him whenever he called.

The youngest Malfoy, although at first swayed by the lure of the Dark Lord came to realize all this: that the mission the Dark Lord gave him was only a ruse so that he would die in the process, that he was being used as an example for those who failed their tasks. He only fixed the vanishing cabinet because he wanted to preserve his family. He didn't care much for his father at that time. It was his mother who he wanted to save. He was left with no choice but to do what he must do.

The fireplace in the main receiving area alighted with green fire as the youngest Malfoy emerged. He was still holding a single white rose in his hand. A small pop ensued with a squeak from one of their house-elves.

"Good evening, Master Draco."

The house-elf bowed lowly. He immediately went to his master and took his robes. The house-elf was still young, maybe in his early twenties when compared to human age. The eyes of the elf were big with the colour of the night sky. He was wearing an emerald pillow case with the Malfoy insignia printed on its centre. His ears were floppy and his nose was long and pointed.

As per Ministry order, every house-elf in Britain was to be paid and would be subject to privileges and rights such as sick leave, maternity leave and so on. This order was of course the doing of Hermione Granger. Narcissa, and even Lucius, didn't mind this which extremely surprised and amazed Draco.

Draco, for his part, thought that the rule was not necessary. His simple reasoning was that every house-elf longed to be of service to their masters, but he also thought that no one would be harmed if the house-elves were given privileges. It would only increase their dedication and devotion. The Malfoy Enterprise even went as far as to release a statement stating that they supported the said order. Other private properties that employed house-elves followed their lead. Some wizarding families, though, fought for the order to be abolished. They went to court but lost in the end.

"Same to you, Apple. My parents?" he replied while looking down at his loyal servant, the rose now nowhere to be seen.

"They has been waiting for you, sir. They has finished their dinner just a while ago and they was now in the sitting room."

Draco arched one of his pale eyebrows. "Ah...are they furious that I didn't join them?"

"Apple, don't thinks so, sir. They was talking something about you and your business with the Ministry. The Lady, though, isn't so happy. She wants you to join master and her every dinner," the elf answered while waiting for the next order.

"I better talk to them," he uttered more to himself than to the elf.

He waved his hand dismissively to the elf. It bowed once again reverently and disappeared with a small pop.

He went to the sitting room that his family frequented and saw his parents sitting side by side on a dark green chaise lounge that matched the whole set-up of the room. The rug in front of the fireplace was black while the table and chairs were made of dark oak.

"Draco, dear!" His mother exclaimed while giving him a peck on the cheek. "Where have you been? I thought that you would be at the Ministry for only a couple of hours. Goodness! But you've been gone the whole day? Did you have other appointments besides your meeting with the Minister?" she inquired while smoothing his hair.

"Honestly, Narcissa. He's not a young boy anymore. Look at him," Lucius waved his hand toward his son. "He's even old enough to have his own family. Don't treat him like he's still a baby to be cuddled," a hint of repugnance laced his voice.

"Oh, stop it Lucius. He's my son, my _only _child, so I will do whatever I deem necessary for him," Narcissa replied while giving a pointed look at her somewhat bored-looking husband. Lucius huffed and mumbled something unintelligible.

Draco had already seen this kind of interaction between his parents. At first, he was extremely suspicious. He thought that they were behaving as a normal couple because that's what the Ministry would like to see, but as time went on, he saw with his own eyes how his father changed from someone as cold as ice to a father who truly cared for his family.

Not that Lucius became as warm as the head of the Weasley clan. He didn't become affectionate or touchy-feely instantly, that would be unthinkable, but Draco knew, felt even without physical displays, that his father cared for him and his mother. He wasn't the glacial, frightening and unsympathetic father that he once knew. The change was miniscule, visible only to those people that he cared about, but it was a substantial change and it was enough to make Draco accept his father once again. Outside their home, the family exuded an air of elusiveness, authority and mystery. They had to keep up appearances, after all, as all Malfoys had done in the past, but in the confines of their home they acted as a normal family would do.

Draco never asked his father about it and Lucius seemed contented on not explaining anything. It was a silent understanding between father and son. Narcissa, at the time when the War just ended and Lucius was sentenced to house arrest, became a bridge between her husband and son. Only she understood the two Malfoys and only she had the ability to make the two understand each other. The pureblood supremacy that his family was known for was not gone but it was toned down considerably.

"Have you eaten, dear?" Narcissa asked while resuming her seat next to her husband. Draco leaned on the mantelpiece to stare at a particular painting on the wall next to it.

"I'm not hungry, mother," he lied, head raised and eyes focused on the painting of Mars, the Roman god of war.

"But Draco, you need to eat," his mother continued. "Do you really think that I didn't notice that you rarely eat these days? Do you have something on your mind, dear?"

Draco faced his parents at this, face masked with indifference. _Do I have something on my mind? Of course, I have and it's been there for years._

"There's nothing wrong, mother," he said slowly, voice as silky as the rest of his family. "You know that I'm just busy with work and all."

"I understand, dear but…" Narcissa was stopped from her worrying by her husband. His hand was raised, entreating her to allow him to speak. She looked at him with understanding. Clearly, they were about to say something to their son.

"Draco," his father's voice was the same as ever, low and still icy. "What your mother meant to say is, we've…received an interesting piece of news from the Ministry."

_Here we go. I hope this won't be long._

"…something about you and the funding of a project."

Draco walked to the other side of the room to sit on a chair. He crossed his legs and employed a stance as if he was in a meeting.

"We, your mother and I," continued Lucius, "don't have any qualms in terms of your choices. We know that what you and your mother have done so far has helped in easing our…_dark _background. But we were only wondering if it's true that you're going to support Ms. Granger's project. She's from what department, dear?" he looked at Narcissa for an answer.

"I believe she's under Lanphear, in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Ah, yes, yes. How could I've forgotten about it," Lucius said with a glint in his eyes. He was clearly remembering the order that the Ministry enacted pertaining to house-elves.

Draco hid his smile in a fake yawn.

"I don't see any reason why you're asking me that, father. I've funded projects before, don't you remember? I don't think this project with Granger is any different. I see no reason why we're having this conversation."

"We're just curious, son. An old man like me, confined to this house, would want to know the happenings outside...," he took a sip from his glass of firewhiskey while maintaining his look on Draco, "especially if it concerns my son."

"I never thought that I had a nosey father," Draco answered looking straight at Lucius.

"Not nosey, concerned, if you will," the older man replied coolly.

Draco huffed at this.

"I will not answer any questions tonight. I have an early start tomorrow and I badly want a rest. Father, Mother, if I may?" He stood up and walked to the door.

"This is not the end of this conversation, Draco," his father added.

He stopped. "I know, father."

"Good night, darling," Narcissa added.

Draco didn't look back but he answered, albeit softly, "Good night."

* * *

><p>Hermione would trade anything that she possessed right now, except for her wand and her books and some trinkets that she had acquired throughout the years, for a tranquil, dreamless sleep. She had been up and about for almost an hour already: she lay down on her bed, stood up to go to the kitchen to drink some water, sat in front of the telly to surf the channels, picked up a book and scanned its contents, she even dared to open her trunk from when she was in Hogwarts and looked at her notes from when she was still eleven, but still her mind was reeling with activity. One second she was already feeling sleepy but a millisecond would pass and she was alert already.<p>

Hermione never imagined that she would feel dread with the thought of sleeping, but here she was now, sitting in front of the fireplace, dreading sleep, a notebook and a pen in front of her.

She wanted to be true to herself. The atmosphere and the crackling fire was the perfect setting for what she was about to do. To complete the ensemble was a tea set beside her. She was wearing pyjamas and a loose shirt that belonged to Harry. Unbeknownst to many people, Hermione had a liking of wearing men's clothes. When asked about it, she said that it was more comfortable than the usual tight-fitting shirts and dresses that women commonly wore.

The brunette decided to write what she _really _thought about the man who haunted her dreams and the one who stalked her. This time, she wouldn't allow herself to counter whatever it was she was thinking. She would let her thoughts flow and would not worry about the repercussions that might come from what she wrote.

She took a deep breath and started to write.

* * *

><p>Draco was in his study. It was draped with dark green curtains and lined with walls of books. His table was in the centre, the two arched windows on his left. In one of the corners of the room was a glass casing housing his Quidditch uniform. In front of him were stacks of documents that he was currently reviewing. Contrary to what people believed, Draco was hardworking, bordering on being a workaholic. He had a direct hand in managing the various companies and investments that their enterprise had. Yes, they hired people to do this kind of job but Draco, as was his nature, didn't easily give his trust to anyone.<p>

He looked at the grandfather clock and stopped his perusal of the papers. It was nearly midnight and he had _business_ to do. He smiled to himself and stretched his arms. Waving his hand, his cluttered desk was immediately put to order. He stood up and went to one of the walls lined with tomes.

He tapped three books on three different shelves and instantly the books in front of him moved to reveal a compartment in the wall. He uttered the password and downed the wards around it. Tapping the flat wall, a key hole appeared. Draco reached for an innocent-looking pen in his pocket, transfigured it and an intricate-looking key reappeared. He opened the compartment using it.

Inside was an small, old, weathered and stained book. He reached for it and smoothed its cover. It looked dewy on the outside. He held the book in his hand and went back to his desk. He picked up the white rose on his desk and went to his bedroom down the hall.

* * *

><p>It took Hermione two hours to pour out every emotion that she felt regarding the dreams and the man involved in it. She didn't expect that simply writing would consume all of her energy. She was currently sitting on the couch and she felt drained, her eyes droopy and her body feeling like jelly. Every activity that day was now catching up to her mortal body.<p>

Her mind screamed that she should re-read what she wrote, that it was very vital for her to know how she perceived this strange occurrence in her life, but her body urged her to sleep. Ten minutes of debating with herself was all it took to finally give in to sleep. It was already midnight when she looked at the wall clock. She yawned and stood up, then picked up the notebook and the tray of tea, and went to the kitchen. After washing the utensils, she went to her medicine cabinet and grabbed a vial of potion.

She turned off the lights and went to her living room once again. Although already sleepy, Hermione still checked the wards, found them intact and working, then she proceeded to her bedroom.

She sat in the centre of the bed, uncorked the vial of dreamless sleep potion and downed it all in one gulp, silently praying that it would work. Instantly, she felt the pull of slumber at her eyelids, willing her to follow its command. She gave into it immediately and the second that her head hit the pillow she was already fast asleep.

* * *

><p>It felt as if she was lying on something made purely of cotton. It was so soft, comforting and warm. She could feel the mild breeze on her face and arms and the air carried a sweet scent. Then she heard the rustling of leaves around her. The cool wind increased its pace and she was compelled to open her eyes slowly. At first, everything was a blur. She sat up and her hand made contact with the grass that she was lying on. She closed her eyes once more and when she opened them she finally saw her surroundings.<p>

She couldn't help the gasp that came from her lips. This wasn't like the previous dreams that she had before. The sun was out and its rays showered onto the field of sunflowers before her. The sky was a pure blue with little patches of white. The wind was not warm but also not cold. Just right, she thought. She suddenly realized that she was under the shade of a tree. Looking up, she saw the towering column with its branches twirling upward to meet the rays of the sun. Some wayward light passed through the opening of the branches and leaves and she could faintly feel the warmth from it. The tree was on a small hill at the centre of the sea of flowers.

She looked around, expecting that the mysterious phantom-like shadow would appear at any moment, but she was alone. Utterly alone. She was still wearing her pyjamas but as with the previous nights, she was wandless. She hugged herself upon remembering her last dream.

_Will he do it again? Was he just biding his time?_

She stood up and took tentative steps around the tree. Her feet were bare but she didn't mind; the grass was soft and she felt comfortable.

She continued walking when she heard the rustling of grass. A couple of feet away from her was the man. But he was not a shadow anymore. She could clearly see that the person who haunted her dreams was wearing dark slacks.

_So, he's not some magical creature or something. Not an incubus, that's for sure, _she thought.

He was wearing a white shirt with the cuffs folded neatly just under his elbows. His hands and forearms were bare.

She wanted to see his face but it was covered in shadow, though she could clearly see that he was of a pale complexion. He was just standing there, near the trunk and the lowest lying branch of the tree, not saying anything. She had never seen his eyes before but she was sure that he was looking at her at that moment. It was the same gaze that she felt that afternoon.

Her brown curls were bouncing with every breath of wind that came into contact with it.

_I must look a sight right now._ She reprimanded herself at this. _Hermione Jane Granger! What are you thinking? You're at the mercy of an unknown, crazy and delusional man. You do not have a right to think of your image!_

She opened her lips partly to speak but the man beat her to it.

"I see that you're rather fond of flowers. Do you like the place?" The voice was as silky as always and he gestured his hand to the field around them. His voice didn't have any malice or lewdness in it. Maybe he was simply curious.

"I don't have to answer your question," Hermione shot back. "So, this is another dream again, huh? Isn't it enough that you violated my body last night?"

The two were unmoving in their respective places. Hermione, for her part, was cautious. Any sudden movement might provoke him. She didn't want a repeat of the events of the night before.

"An interesting choice of word." Hermione thought that if she could only see him, she would surely see a smirk on his face. "...violated. But I don't think I did something wholly unwanted. Your moans are still fresh in my ears, love," he drawled.

Hermione flushed at this. She looked at the other side of the field where she couldn't see him. After a couple of seconds of calming her furiously beating heart, Hermione looked once again at the man. His face and hair was still undetectable under the shadow, but was it the shadow or some sort of spell that was keeping her from seeing his face. She didn't know.

"Why…why are you doing this?" her voice slightly faltered.

The man shifted on his feet. _Was he nervous?_

"Hmmm…let's see," he said after a pause. "Do you have any inkling of who I am, Hermione?"

There was it again. Whenever he said her name, it was as if she had heard the voice somewhere in the real world.

"Do you honestly believe that I would leave you unscathed if I knew who you really are? I would've hexed you so badly that you wouldn't leave St. Mungo's for a year and the both of us would not be here, talking aimlessly in this…beautiful place." She answered with a hint of warning although she couldn't denigrate the sight around her. The place was breathtaking. It was like a scene from a painting or from a movie.

He softly chuckled. It was like the soft ringing of bells to her ears.

"Right, right. You haven't changed a bit and that's one of the things that attracted me to you. Always the feisty one, Gryffindor to the core," he stated, mirth still in his voice.

_Was he complimenting me?_

"I ask again. Why are you doing this?" Hermione said forcefully. She took two steps towards him.

"Are you, by any chance, trying to intimidate me, love?" he asked amusedly. "I don't want to disappoint you but I'm afraid it's not working. You look as stunning as ever, though, in this light and with the wind blowing your hair like that, you look truly ravishing."

She couldn't fight the blush that crept once again on her face. Her body instantly became a lot warmer. She took a deep breath and tried to mask her embarrassment with a frown. _He was clearly distracting me. Don't listen to his words. Focus. Focus._

"You didn't answer my question, _mister."_ She paused for effect. "Why are you doing this? And don't give me the reason that you've used before. Saying that you want me and all that crap is genuinely disgusting. Judging from the things that you're capable of, I say that you're a pretty powerful wizard, albeit a dark one. What you're doing is completely against Ministry rules and I will make sure that you will get into trouble when I found out who you are." She was surprised at her own boldness. Either she was completely courageous or an utter fool, she didn't know but it felt like that was the right thing to say.

"There's nothing disgusting in wanting you," his voice immediately turned deadly col. "I say that the people who you're now with are fools for not seeing how great you are, Hermione. But be thankful that you're not romantically involved with anyone. I don't know if I can restrain myself from hurting any person who would take you away from me. "

Hermione felt like she was glued to the soft grass._ Was that a threat? Will he truly resort to hurting innocent people?_

"As for the Ministry, I highly doubt that you would succeed in such an endeavour. Every one of them is easy to manipulate. Except you, love. You've always been a challenge." The man spoke again as if remembering something. "Ah, I almost forgot." The trace of seriousness and coldness wasn't in his voice anymore, it sounded excited, to say the least. "You're visiting Hogwarts tomorrow, right?" he asked casually as if they were friends talking over a cup of tea.

She was dumbstruck. How did he know that was visiting her school?

"How did you know that?" she asked quickly.

"I have means, dear and I will use every one of them to know your every action."

_Unbelievable! Now what should I do? Where should I go? To Harry? Ask for his help and protection?_

"But don't worry," continued the man under the shadow. "I will let you do what you want to do. Read books if you like. Consult the greatest wizards alive. But I know that you won't find the answers to your questions anywhere." Finality and confidence was in his voice.

"I would love to talk to you longer but this ends my visit tonight, love. I know that you're tired from your work at the Ministry and you need to rest." Genuine concern was in his voice and his tone seemed dejected.

"Then stop appearing in my dreams! If you're really concerned about my welfare, you will stop whatever you're doing!"

"I'm afraid I can't, Hermione," he said softly that it was almost like a whisper to himself.

A huge surge of wind blew, the petals of sunflowers danced in the wind, forming a yellow sea between her and the man. The last thing she remembered seeing was a pale hand amidst the yellow sea of petals reaching to caress her form.

* * *

><p>AN: This is a lengthy one guys. I really, really want to know your ideas about it. Is my writing improving? Or I'm getting worse? Do you think I should continue this story or should I just stop wasting my time? Because, believe me, I'm also as clueless about what's going to happen next as you, dear readers. Make my day and review! Thanks for reading, loves!


	9. Confrontation and Conversation

Chapter 9: Confrontation and Conversation

Disclaimer: Damn. Still not mine.

The digital clock at her bedside table showed that it was ten past four in the morning. Too early. She grunted loudly and remained lying on her bed. Another night of disturbed sleep had passed and she so wanted to resume her rest. She covered her face with a blanket and tried to be taken again to the land of Morpheus. Ten, twenty, thirty minutes passed but sleep wasn't catching up on her, it was the contrary, actually, for she now felt more awake.

She couldn't help but repeat in her mind everything that occurred in her dream. The sun, the clear blue sky, the soft breeze, the field of sunflowers, him, his form, his voice, their conversation, his knowledge of her plan to go to Hogwarts…her plan!

She bolted in a sitting position. So fast was her movement that the blanket covering her whole body was now on the foot of the bed. Her curls stormed around her face and her eyes were wide with shock at the realization. For some unexplainable reason, he knew of her plans. First was in Manchester and now her visit to Hogwarts? She furrowed her brow and started to think of possible explanations for this.

How long had he been stalking her? Since the dream started ? Two weeks ago? Three? Why did it seem as if he _knew_ her? It was not the simple awareness of the birthday, the friends or the previous school of someone. Those kind of information were easy to obtain. But when he talked to her, she was sure that she could feel a certain feeling of..familiarity with him. Was it possible that she had met him before, maybe even talked to him? It was probable. But where?

She cradled her head in her hands and gripped a handful of hair. Frustration was slowly creeping to her mind as the minutes of thinking and recalling went by. She couldn't think of anyone she recently met that would qualify as the dream-man. She remembered his form but it wasn't enough. The shadows obscured much of his face and shoulder that it was impossible for her to recognize him in the real world.

One thing Hermione was sure of: he knew her quite well.

Hermione let out a loud groan. It was irritating to not know. She had prided herself for being logical and rational. But right now, facing this kind of situation had shown her that she was as normal as everyone else. Not that she held the belief that she's more worthy than others. No. She's very, very far from being prejudiced. What she thought of herself before was that if she happened to face a problem or an obstacle that involve any sort of emotion, she believed that she would handle it methodically and perfectly. It could be compared to solving a problem in Arithmancy or Ancient Runes. Both involved a high degree of concentration, of critical and logical thinking, characteristics that Hermione perfected throughout the years.

When she and Krum agreed to end their relationship, she handled the situation very well, with eyes and ears opened. Besides she wasn't totally in love with the famous Quidditch player. Back at that stage in her life, she thought that she's more in love with the idea of being in love rather than with the person. Same thing might be explained with her relationship with Ron. Both of them were still at their teens and everyone expected for them to be together. They just went with the flow and didn't even question their own feelings. As for "Ryan the player", as she termed him, thinking the relationship over was not even an option for her.

But now, after all the things she experienced and learned in Hogwarts, after all of the adventures and even life threatening situations connected to being one of the best friends of Harry Potter, and she as a career woman who's confident and who's sure of where she wanted to go, a simple looking back at her actions and reactions regarding the dream-man showed her that she was doing the exact opposite of it all.

She panicked, she flustered, she acted on pure instinct alone. It's as if she wasn't she, the usual Hermione who remained calm and calculating whenever danger comes her way.

She groaned for the third time and looked at her bedside table. It was now already half past five. Even if she wanted to sleep, she knew that her mind won't allow it so she stood up and went to the loo to ready for the day.

The breakfast consisted of strong coffee, sausages and egg fried rice. It was a bit heavy for her but she needed energy today. Aside from her usual work, she will also write to the Malfoy Enterprises. Given a choice, Hermione would postpone her meeting with Malfoy. Her plate was somehow full at the moment and she wanted the problem concerning her dreams to be resolved before diving into another matter that will sure to give her headaches. Besides, she didn't want to have any interaction, whether personal, through mail, or anything, with him. It wasn't because she's scared of him or couldn't take his insults anymore.

On the contrary, he seemed to be more amiable now, a 180 degree turn to his previous self at Hogwarts; but it seemed that that was exactly the issue. She honestly didn't know how to interact with an almost-friendly Malfoy. It was like second nature to them to feel mutual dislike for each other and this latest development, whatever it was, was something she was unsure of. It was like treading an unchartered territory somewhere in the depths of the sea or in the lowest bowels of the earth or in the unseen confines of the universe. It was….new.

She finished her breakfast and went to her bedroom. The documents she took home remained unread. She tucked it in her bag along with the notebook that contained her thoughts about the dream-man and flooed to the Ministry even though it was just seven.

She wasn't expecting any of her co-workers so early and she was right. The brunette went straight to her office to make the letter to Malfoy and to evaluate the documents. She needed to finish as much work as possible because she will leave early for her visit to Hogwarts. Her goal was to complete everything before three in the afternoon.

She pulled out the stack of papers and her notebook fell on the paneled floor. Her hand twitched in anticipation and she licked her bottom lip unconsciously as her eyes fell on the simple red notebook. She badly wanted to read everything that she wrote. Picking it up and sitting at her desk, she quickly decided that she will peruse it later. Her work was more important compared to her personal problems.

She handed the fourth report to her assistant an hour ago. It was already lunch and her stomach was grumbling loudly. Her office door opened and her assistant emerged.

"Miss Hermione, it's already twelve. Sir Mark and Miss Tessa are off to the cafeteria. Aren't you joining us? You've been here since morning. Surely, you've made progress on the reports."

Hermione huffed. "I wish. There are still five more reports and I have to leave before three. I need to finish all of it before that time. I told you about my visit to Hogwarts, right?" She had mentioned it to her in passing.

"Oh, right. But it wouldn't be good for you to skip meals. I know, Miss. I'll just buy you something at the cafeteria. Would that be okay?"

"More than okay, Dahlia. Thanks so much."

Her assistant was about to close the door when she called out to her again.

"Dahlia, wait!"

"What is it, Miss?"

"Did the Malfoy Enterprises reply to the letter?"

That letter was the first thing that she accomplished that morning. It was simple, professional and direct, articulating her gratitude for the company and her query as to when and where the first meeting of the two parties will be held.

"No, not yet."

"Oh...good." Hermione sighed in relief. Her assistant looked at her questioningly but didn't ask her boss any questions. She closed the door and proceeded to the cafeteria.

Seeing Dahlia reminded her of the scene that morning. All of the people at her sub-department finally knew of the funding and everybody was in high spirits. They even planned to hold a celebration but Hermione couldn't attend so they decided to move it on another date. The cheer and the shouts lifted her spirits a bit.

Going back to the present, Hermione thought of Draco Malfoy. She didn't want to know the date where she had to confront him again._ He wasn't that bad, though._ That was the recurring thought in her mind. He seemed changed for the better and that was good. It meant that what they fought for during the War wasn't futile, that it's possible for people to change their views, albeit patience was much needed. _But is he truly changed? _She wasn't sure. He hadn't called her mudblood. Not in years. His family changed sides at the most opportune time. His mother helped Harry and his father, as far as the news from the Ministry was true, was behaving extremely well in his house arrest. Also, she remembered that the last time he insulted her was in fifth year. She shook the thoughts out of her head and pored over again to the parchment before her.

Ten minutes later, her assistant arrived and gave her lunch. She smiled and thanked her but quickly resumed her work. An hour passed before she finally took a break.

She was about to take a last, big bite at her sandwich when the door to her office opened unceremoniously. Her mouth was wide open and it only grew bigger as she saw the person currently standing before her.

As usual, he was donned in an all-black outfit. His eyes fell upon the brunette and upon seeing her and what she was about to do, his mouth immediately formed its trademark smirk. He crossed his arms before his chest and looked at her with a glint in his eyes.

She suddenly realized that her mouth was still open and she closed it forcefully that it the clashing of teeth to teeth was heard by the two of them. _Merlin, that hurt!_

"Miss Hermione!" Her assistant broke the tension. I'm so very sorry! I told him that he should first make an appointment before we could accommodate him but he insisted on meeting you and Mr. Malfoy forced his way in. I'm truly, truly -"

Hermione raised her left hand, silencing her assistant. "It's okay, Dahlia. It's not your fault." She smiled at her to make sure that she wasn't angry with the intrusion.

"Would you like me to get you some tea?" She looked at her and then to Malfoy who was not taking any heed of her.

"That's not necessary." Hermione said sternly.

"If you say so." She went and closed the door softly behind her.

When the door was finally closed, she directed her eyes to the man before her. She wanted to yell at him for barging in without any notice. His stance, the smirk on his pale face and the way his grey eyes checked her office expressed haughtiness and self-importance.

_How did it pass my mind that he's changed when he reeks of pompousness and insolence! _

"You could finish your…snack." He drawled, walking towards her languidly, eyes focused on the brunette.

She looked at him piercingly; her hazel eyes now more of the color of gold. With a swiftness that could rival a Seeker, Hermione resumed what she was about to do when the blond entered her office. She ate the remaining piece of sandwich and sipped her juice.

He was in front of her in three long strides and was about to reach out to her. His eyes held a mysterious and intense look in them. When his hand was mere inches from her face, she spoke.

"What do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" She wanted her voice to be firm but her ears registered that she failed. She looked at him straight in the eye, trying to decipher the look that he's giving her.

"This." He said and wiped the corner of her lips with his thumb. His fingers barely brushed the corner of her mouth but there was a tingling sensation that lingered. "You're messy, Granger." He smirked. His voice was teasing. He took a seat in front of her desk, crossed his legs and placed his crossed hands above his knees.

She quickly recovered from the sudden daze brought by their brief contact and the truth of what was happening immediately sunk in her mind. Hermione was livid. Her cheeks displayed a tinge of crimson and her now empty hands were curled. _How could he barge in like he owns this office, _my _office! _She took a deep calming breath before speaking.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Malfoy?" She said dangerously. Nothing good will come out if she acted untoward to her sponsor.

He looked at her and widened his smirk. "Mr. Malfoy now, Granger? It sounds nice with you trying to act so polite to me but I'd rather hear and see you act the way you usually do." He said mischievously.

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. She thought that Malfoy would make advantage of their new relationship, no, partnership. It was just a simple partnership. A business transaction, if you will. Viewing things in a more political manner, he was wielding power over her. He being a sponsor entailed that he had a say on how the institution will be created. The specific details regarding the project such as the structure of the building itself, the programs, the people who will be part of the research, almost everything, was under his scrutiny and critique. She was the proponent of the project, yes, but she didn't have the means to make everything possible. She must also bend to the will, slightly, of her sponsor. It was a silent understanding between the sponsor and the one who was being funded. It irked her to know that fact.

"If that's how you want things to be then I won't argue with you, _Malfoy." _She said his last name disdainfully. "So, what are you doing here barging in my office like you own the whole place?" She said while crossing her arms.

"That's more like it. About me being here," he paused for a few seconds. "Nothing, really."

"Nothing what?" She was getting irritated by the minute.

"Nothing. I came here for nothing. I just want to see your office, that's all." He said, his eyes once again roamed around her small yet neat office. "It's organized but it's very plain." He said matter-of-factly while his eyes traveled to the Muggle painting behind her, to the bookshelf in one of the corner, to the fresh flowers near the window then to her.

"Thanks, Mr. Interior Designer. But I don't really care for your opinion. As you -"

"Wait. What did you call me?" he interjected, eyes laced with confusion.

"As you can see, I am a very busy person." She ignored his question and proceeded to finish her rant. "I don't have the time to talk with you over tea. And it's none of your business how I arrange my _own _office. If you have any qualms about how _plain _it is, the door is just behind you and you are very welcome to exit it as soon as that brain of yours register that you are not wanted here."

Draco looked at her amusedly. "That was a mouthful, don't you think? And I only commented about your office."

"That's not the point. I owled you this morning to ask the schedule for our first meeting not for you to visit me unannounced and grace me with your presence." She replied sarcastically.

"Well, I love to give surprises, Granger." He said cryptically.

Hermione could sense that there was more to his simple words but she didn't want to address them as of now, so she mentally encased it for future scrutiny.

"This is not the time for surprises. Can't you see that I'm very busy? I don't have the time and the energy to exchange useless barbs with you. Just spit out whatever it is you want from me. If what you said is true, that you're here for nothing, or that you just want to see my office, then you've fulfilled the desire of your heart. You could leave my office now."

Both of them were still sitting but the crackling of magic was in the air. The two seemed ready to engage in a duel and they were in a duel, a staring match that both want to win in.

"Gryffindor to the core." He whispered but made sure that Hermione will hear at least a part of it.

"What-what did you say?" Her concentration was now off and the intense look in her eyes was now gone. She heard that before.

"Nothing, Granger. Next Monday at Malfoy Enterprises, nine sharp."

He immediately stood up and exited her office without another word.

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><p>He emerged from the office with an indifferent look on his face. On the outside he seemed totally calm and cool but inside he was a raging fire. It seemed that every time he came into some form of contact with her, whether it was a simple exchange of words or even a slight brush of skin to skin, his need for her becomes stronger and more forceful. It wasn't a simple lust. Lust was a feeling, a mere push of the body to quench its thirst. What he felt for Hermione was greater than that. Yes, he longed for her warmth and scent, but he knew that he needed more than that. He could easily claim her, own her, but that's not what he wanted. It surpassed mere feeling, mere liking. He never thought that he would admit it to himself.<p>

It was years after their graduation before he finally admitted to himself that maybe, maybe he's not so different at all with other people, that he was capable of this wondrous and frightening feeling that he now harbored for the Gryffindor. And yes, he succumbed to it.

He allowed it to encircle his thoughts, to entwine him to his instincts, to overpower his mind, to drive him into doing what he was doing. He opened his arms wide open to it and now he was a slave, a slave who owned whole or parts of companies around the world, a slave who's willing to do _anything _to get what he wanted. Ironic. Tormenting. Agonizing. But true. And he won't give up. He will never give up.

Draco knew why she was so heated up to kick him out of her office. Knowing her, he knew that she was already itching to go to Hogwarts. She was right to go back to their school. Something of concern to her nightly visits was in the castle, in the library specifically. She might doubt in finding anything of connection to her problems there but he was sure that if she only knew where to look, she would finally locate it.

Hermione wouldn't know who he was but it would give her more to think about, something that would, he hoped, distract her. Oh, he liked teasing her. He only wished he could watch her while she was pondering over it. He wanted to _accompany_ her to Hogwarts but a meeting with his business partners in the Philippines was in order. He was planning on investing on some of the companies in the country. Even though, it was a third world nation, he knew that it has a potential. After that, he will head to the Japan and then to Russia.

Draco was now in front of the lift. When it opened, he saw Hermione's assistant, Dahlia. He looked at her and she looked back.

A conversation had just transpired.

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><p>AN: I want to give a BIG hug to those who encouraged me to continue writing this. Thanks for giving me strength to make another chapter to this story! I was a bit down when I posted the last chapter thus the almost-depressed note. Anyway, who checked Pottermore? I'm still waiting for my email.

About this chapter: Did you like it? What do you think about the last part? Intriguing? Haha. The next chapter will be Hermione in Hogwarts and some more. You're very welcome to voice out your thoughts. If you have any suggestions, whether in the style of writing or in the content of the story, feel free to review. Tell me your thoughts. I yearn for them tremendously. If it's also not too much I would like to ask for pointers on how to write engaging conversations. I suck at them. I know.

Thank you for reading!


	10. A Hand in the Darkness

Chapter 10: A Hand in the Darkness

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I could only dream of it but even that would be unthinkable since I adore JK Rowling so much.

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><p>Hermione was just finishing the last report for the day. It was 2:35 when she looked at her watch. She smiled at herself knowing that she accomplished what she goaled to finish and she wouldn't be late for her visit in Hogwarts. She told the Headmistress that she will be at her office at exactly three in the afternoon. She hated being late, especially if she was the one who set the time of meeting. For her, being prompt was important. It showed how disciplined a person was, of how they value the time and efforts of others and of how professional their outlooks were.<p>

She smoothed the folders housing the reports. Now, all she needed to do was to clean up the clatter on her table. She arranged the other documents methodically, storing them on the drawer of her desk and then proceeded to put other parchments on her bag. While doing this, Hermione's mind went back to the sudden visit, or more of intrusion, of Draco Malfoy.

The brunette didn't know what to think of it. He was the same git that she knew. He teased her. His smirk was always present. His attitude was still haughty. He was him but he was different at the same time. She understood the likelihood that Malfoy wanted to rub on her face the fact that he was funding her project. It was understandable and somewhat expected given their mutual annoyance for each other. But, as her mind shouted, he did not. He commented that her office was plain but it couldn't be counted as an insult. Even her assistant expressed the same thought and that's why there's always a new set of flowers for her everyday to liven the place up. He didn't even mention anything about him being her sponsor. He only told her the time and place for their first meeting. It seemed that he simply liked teasing her and surprisingly, not in an insulting or degrading way. It was rude of him to just barge-in in her office but he had done worse things than that. It unnerved Hermione to no end because she had no idea what he was up to.

As she had contemplated before, it was impossible that he was funding her project out of the goodness of his heart. Maybe he was using her name to boost his reputation. Their partnership will surely attract the attention of the media. _Yes, that could be it. _

As of now, the whole project was not yet official. Both parties needed to talk over the actions that they will execute. Aside from that, Hermione was also thinking of finding additional sponsors. She sighed. She couldn't understand his actions and it seemed that his presence disconcerted her. She felt this unexplainable nervousness whenever he's around. It wasn't like that when they were students.

_Maybe it's because I hadn't seen him for years? I just need to get used to him once again, I think. Oh, this won't be like a walk in the park._

She walked to the window to gaze at the purple tulips resting at the ledge. The bulbs were half-open. She picked one and smelt it. The scent was faint but it was pleasant, fresh. She gathered a few stems to bring home.

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><p>Hermione arrived on time at the office of Headmistress McGonagall. She arrived through the floo network. Her old mentor was seated at her table and rushed to welcome her.<p>

"Hermione, dear, how are you?" The Headmistress hugged her tightly when she reached her previous student.

Professor McGonagall looked the same except for her hair. It was now a shade of black and grey that enhanced her features. She still looked strict and stern. Her pointy hat, as observed by the brunette, was resting at the table of the Headmistress.

Hermione returned the embrace. "I'm fine, Professor. A bit engrossed in work, but I'm enjoying it and I'm learning so much from everything that entailed being the head of our branch." She replied with a smile. She missed her previous mentor and her school. Now that she's back, she will make sure to at least know the latest news regarding the school and, if possible, go for a walk around the familiar corridors and classrooms. She will also visit Hagrid once she finished her research. Oh, how she missed the grounds, the lake even the Forbidden Forest.

"You're as hardworking as I remember you are. And your efforts are paying off. I heard that you're already making a name at your department." The Headmistress whisked her to the seat in front of her table.

"I'm afraid not. I still have a lot to learn and to experience before I can say such a thing."

"Oh, I don't believe you, Hermione. I know the Ministry well. Clearly, they're not seeing the things that you've accomplished so far, or they see it but they don't give you enough merit. Well, so much for this kind of talk. Care for some tea before you go to the library?"

"That would be lovely, Professor. I'm a bit hungry myself."

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><p>After spending half an hour at the Headmistress' office Hermione was finally at Hogwarts library. In front of her were tomes of books regarding the Dark Arts. Students were not allowed at the Restricted Section so she had the entire place all to herself. She was ecstatic to know that tons of new books were added to the already great collection.<p>

She felt guilty for lying at Professor McGonagall. She told the older witch that she was currently researching for another way to use Demiguise pelts since the Department currently cared for two.

_But I mean no harm in lying. Besides it did cross my mind to find other ways to make use of the hairs of the Demiguise. Aside from weaving it into Invisibility Cloaks, some people had claimed that they can be used as concealing ointments. So, technically, lying is not the word for what I'm doing it's just, just additional research. I'll look for something, anything about Trevisa's book and after that, I will take time to search about Demiguises._ _I'm not doing anything wrong. Right? Right._

Hermione wasn't used to lying, especially to someone as dear to her as Professor McGonagall who had been her mentor for years, so what she had done weighed heavily on her mind. It maybe a simple thing to others but she held to her principles although this time her needs preceded her values.

She flipped the pages of the book she's holding. It was almost two hours since she started scouring the shelves of the library but she's getting nowhere. Madam Pince had offered help and Hermione would've accepted it if only she wasn't in the situation she's currently in, so she declined the offered assistance politely.

Hermione walked to the other side of the Restricted Section, the newly built one. Some of the old books were there but the majority was composed of the donated or the newly acquired ones. She walked at the aisle formed by the tall bookshelves and a sign at the far end of the hall caught her eyes. It read _The Potions Master Section_. Hermione walked towards it, curiosity piqued, a feeling at her chest told her that she will find something there.

Her footsteps echoed throughout the small room, her heart, for some unexplainable reason, was thumping loudly against her chest. She reached the shelf and read the green glass with white engravings placed on the wall directly beside the shelf. It read:

_A memorial to the Potions Master, Severus Snape, for his contribution in nurturing the minds of Hogwarts students._

Hermione didn't know about this memorial to her previous professor. A tribute commemorating the people who had fallen in the War was already erected at the grounds of the school. This must be an additional homage for all the things that he had done and sacrificed all those years.

She smiled sadly at the thought of Snape. Although the late professor gave her a hard time when she was still under his tutelage, she had learned so many things from him. Her interest in the field of potions was a direct influence of him to her. He transformed the chemistry of potion making into an art. Harry told her of Snape's part in the war and it broke her heart to know that someone could give so much but get so little in the end.

Hermione reached into the lone shelf dedicated to the professor. It wasn't particularly large like most of the shelves in the library. It was composed of three levels only, and apparently, these were some of the books that Snape once owned. Most of it was concerned on potions but a few books were about the Dark Arts.

_These are all great books but I'm afraid none of it is connected with what I'm looking for, _she mused while skimming the titles.

She was about to move to the other shelf when a book caught her eyes. It wasn't the book itself but the color of it. It was the color of the tulips in her office, deep purple. She reached for it. It was a bit battered-looking but was intact. There were no labels or title on the cover and it's not that thick compared to most of the volumes in the section. She opened it, half-expecting that it would be like some of the books where a face would appear and would scream at you. But no, it was ordinary.

She flipped the page and finally saw the title. _A Memoir. _ It was owned by a Wilhelmus Polkinghorn. She flipped three pages and saw the text, an elegant script handwritten in the unlined pages of the book.

It was maybe the handwriting that compelled her to read it, maybe it was the fact that it was once a book of one of the greatest Potions Master in Hogwarts or maybe it's because of the color of the cover which reminded her of the tulips in her bag, but whatever the reason was, Hermione asked the permission of Madam Pince to copy the whole book. The librarian first checked it for any hidden spells and found that there was a spell that retained the quality of the book. No wonder it's still in a good condition even after centuries of use. As for how it came to Snape's collection of books, no one can answer to that except maybe the late professor himself.

She resumed her seat and began reading the copied version of the memoir. She knew that she might be wasting her time in reading it but her instincts told her that it's alright to take a chance. If it didn't lead her to anything helpful, she could view reading it as a break from her two hour unfruitful, as of the moment, search.

The first page was dated July 15, 1503 where the writer talked about a case on vanishing people at a few provinces in the country. Apparently, the owner was once a head of the _Division for the Appropriate Manipulation of Magic_ which was the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the present. Hermione knew this because before entering the Ministry, she made sure that she's read the "Ministry of Magic: The Beginning and the Future" by Thomson Flockton.

It wasn't a memoir or an autobiography per se. It's more of a journal where the content was mainly detailed notes about the owner's penchant for reading unsolved cases in the British wizarding community. Being the head of the department, he had access to the division that stored the records of the cases that the Ministry had handled.

The first few entries were really trivial sort of cases, nothing bizarre. She noticed that Polkinghorn was very keen on details. He described the cases as if he was also investigating it, giving his opinions, insights and even theories. When she started reading the seventh entry, Hermione knew that this book was going to be of help to her. Her eyes read the elegant script in record speed while her heart thumped loudly at her chest.

The said entry started with the description of a story that circulated around the area of Devonshire and Somersetshire around 1199. What interested the owner of the memoir to focus on the said records was the unusual behavior of the involved parties. It was said that some influential people in the two counties went mad and then died for reasons that were both mysterious and inexplicable. At first, the wizarding authorities who investigated the matter couldn't think of any possible cause for these events. They sought the help of experts on potions and charms to know the truth behind the sudden madness but their efforts were fruitless. The authorities even thought that it was an epidemic but further investigation only met a dead-end.

The only lead the investigators had was the wealth of the afflicted wizards and witches. All were or had connections with merchants and traders. Others were landowners, owning even the people that reside in their properties. The Ministry authorities at that time couldn't think of a place to start their inquest. They could only talk to the families and friends of the people involved, gather evidences and from there form speculations that would lead them to the culprit or culprits behind the deaths.

Hermione retrieved the parchment she'd copied from her previous research in Manchester. Her mind told her of a possible connection between this case and Trevisa. She remembered that the timeline of the case was consistent with the year when Trevisa fled the country for France. She read the short passage and her hunch increased. It was possible that the case she was currently reading was the one being referred to in the book at Chetham's Library.

She resumed reading the entry of Polkinghorn. The entry lost its clinical tone and abruptly held a darker vein. The families of the deceased wizards and witches had the same story to tell the Ministry officials. The madness started with simple nightmares, dreams that they deemed as nothing to worry about. Then after a few weeks, those who experienced the dreams started to act strange. All went into some sort of depressed state, then reverted back to their usual self, then acted happy and ecstatic all of a sudden.

At first, only a lone wizard started to show this kind of behavior. His name wasn't stated in the entry but he was described as a rich merchant from the Orient who settled in the country. The officials found the journal of the wizard, one of the most important evidence that was found. In there, they read a detailed account of what went in his head when the madness was just starting to creep in his mind. The wizard often wrote about a shadow that haunted his sleep, whispering things to him, taunting him. It came to a point that he even went to great lengths to stop himself from sleeping. His journal recounted the ways in which he tried to use spells and potions to stop the dreams but all came to naught.

The last sane entry of the wizard told of how it seemed to him that the shadow was implanting destructive thoughts in his head, sometimes of murdering his own family but more often of ways he could kill himself. After two weeks, the wizard met his end when he fell from the highest tower of his home.

The death of this wizard was seen by the authorities who made the initial investigations as a confined incident. His journal at this time was not yet known to the authorities since all supposed that it was suicide.

It was a month after his death that similar things happened to other wizards and then eventually to some witches. It baffled the authorities and then they started to panic because all of the people afflicted with this abrupt madness slowly killed themselves, and not just a simple tumble off of a tower like the first victim. Whatever entity that haunted their dreams and even waking hours became more creative in his infiltration of the subconscious mind of the unfortunate wizards and witches.

When the Ministry officials asked the friends and acquaintances of the deceased people, they found out that all of them had some form of argument or misunderstanding with a wizard known as Bartholomew Trevisa. Apparently, he and the dead wizards and witches moved in the same social circle. Trevisa was known as a peculiar personality in the group, a very talented and accomplished gentleman but with an air of darkness coupled with a mercurial temper. It was known to his circle that he had a history of violence and aggressiveness.

It wasn't stated as to what the dispute was all about but it centered on Trevisa as someone losing his mind because of his account that he dreamed of Morpheus himself. The people didn't believe him and made him a laughingstock whenever they gather. Trevisa didn't take it lightly and in the end he stopped attending the gatherings and meetings.

When the Ministry officials looked into the personal belongings of the deceased people, they found something that led them to increase their suspicion that Trevisa was behind the madness and the deaths. All of the victims received a package from him, a small bottle of perfume. Some were half-empty while some were still full. The authorities examined the perfume and found that it was a potion. Its origin and function was never known. When they went to Trevisa's castle in Dorset, they found that he already fled the country.

Hermione stopped reading the journal when she came to this part. She was feeling faint and drained all of a sudden. Her head was throbbing in rhythm with the fast and loud thumping of her heart. The chair she was sitting on supported her form but it seemed that it wasn't enough. The need to lie down, to close her eyes and just drift off to sleep was a very welcoming thought to her. Beads of cold sweat formed on her forehead and her breathing was shallow. She thought that it could be heard across the room. Even the soft lights of the library made her head ache. She welcomed the darkness brought by closing her eyes but she regretted it instantly. The moment she sealed her eyelids shut she saw something amidst the darkness of her closed eyes, a hand reaching out to her.

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><p>AN: Up there is crappy writing at its finest. If you're interested on how to be an expert in it, you can leave a review or you can just PM me and I will give you a rundown of what to do to be called the crappiest writer ever.

On a serious note, I will say that I'm not happy with this chapter. I've struggled with it. It took me days just to think of how I will end it and as usual my mind didn't follow my original plan. It veered into another direction and now I'm thinking of how I will adjust the whole story to this development. Are you confused with it? Do you have any questions? Review or PM me. I will answer them gladly.

I would like to express my gratitude to all of those who reviewed and who shared their thoughts regarding the last chapter. I will make sure to use some of the prompts and ideas in the following chappies.

I hope you guys won't desert me for this badly done part of the story. I will wait for your reactions and feedbacks. Thank you for reading!

P.S. I now have a tumblr account! You can check it out using my username here. Thanks!

And just wondering, how did you come across this story? That's it for now.


	11. Crazy Hermione, Concerned Lucius

Chapter 11: Crazy Hermione, Concerned Lucius

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. No profit is being made off of this story. I'm a mere fan who wishes things would be different between Draco and Hermione in the book. Good thing there's this wonderful world of fandom where I'm free to do whatever my crazy imagination tells me to write. I just love this!

Ladies and..and gents? Not sure if there are guys who read my story. Anyway, again, ladies and gents here's the eleventh chapter. Hope you'll like it!

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><p>The sky was clear, stars glittered at the night sky and the moon was full, unmasked, showering the grounds with soft light. Inside the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, students were slowly making their way to the Great Hall. Dinner was ready and the aroma of food and the chattering and laughter of students and teachers alike was evident in the air. A couple of levels from the said room was the library. It was deserted apart from seven students at the reading area, Madam Pince and a previous student of the school.<p>

Four of the students who were from Ravenclaw were huddled together on a table, working on a project due the next day. Two students from Hufflepuff were already clearing their things. A lone Slytherin had just returned a book to Madam Pince and was now on his way out of the library. Everyone was oblivious to a certain brunette at the Restricted Section who looked clearly unwell.

Her eyes were now open wide. _Wha-..what was that? _She thought to herself. She hesitantly closed her eyes once more to see if what she thought she saw would reappear again. Darkness with blots and patches of white welcomed her. She closed her eyes tightly, waiting if the pale hand would reappear again.

_Was it my imagination? Am I just tired? But it seemed so real and solid and I know, I just know, that it's not created by my mind._

No hand reappeared and Hermione opened her eyes. Her breathing was slowly returning to its normal rate. The feeling of lightheadedness was also slowly receding. The physiological effects of whatever it was that's happening to her was slowly vanishing, but uncertainty and fear was also slowly creeping in her heart. She blocked it the instant her mind recognized the emotions. No, she won't be afraid. There's nothing to be afraid of because she didn't even know what or whose hand it was, or if it was created by her mind or an effect of her stressful life.

The book she was reading lay open in front of her. It revealed very crucial information about Trevisa and what he had done. It seemed that the rumors about him being able to infiltrate dreams were true. He was a vengeful and cunning sort of man, characteristics that shouldn't be coupled with an extensive knowledge in the Dark Arts.

She resumed reading the book but Polkinghorn's entry ended without stating any counter-potion or charm to whatever he was doing to his victims. There was also no mention of how Trevisa managed to accomplish the deaths. The perfume that every victim received was recorded as a potion but Polkinghorn mused that it could be a falsification since the authorities didn't find its function and the perfume-potion was never found in the storehouses of the Ministry. It's possible that those who investigated the case simply added that piece of information to make it look as if they were proceeding well into their investigation.

Hermione considered the opinion of Polkinghorn and found that he had a point. He knew of the proceedings in the Ministry and how clouded in mystery these investigations could be. The whereabouts of Trevisa was also baseless and circulated only as a rumor. But the Ministry took a chance and sent numerous parties to France and as Hermione already knew, they came back with nothing but the news of their failure. The investigation and search went on for almost three years with the mystery of the madness and the deaths hanging in the air. The book that Trevisa supposedly authored was never seen except for a lone servant who had seen to his master's needs. The servant was unnamed but Polkinghorn's entry said that the servant saw how his master always clutched the book tightly against his chest, as if his very life depended on it. The entry added that Trevisa had been locking himself up at his tower for months and he didn't allow anyone in his room. That ended Polkinghorn's entry for that case.

The brunette didn't lose hope and read the next entry, but to her dismay it was about an entirely new case which was wholly unconnected to Trevisa. Hermione felt her heart dropped low to the pits of her stomach. One minute she was on a high to discover a journal that could possibly help her but now her hope was snatched once again. It seemed that as she knew more about her dreams and how it could be infiltrated, her problems would only increase in number.

She looked around the shelves of books and then to the large window on her left. She was surprised to find out that it's already dark outside. She hesitantly cleared her things up to go to the Great Hall. She promised the Headmistress that she will join the faculty and students for dinner. Her mind was occupied of everything that she had read and of the disturbing apparition when she closed her eyes. Questions danced around her mind while she treaded the familiar halls and corridors of Hogwarts.

_He said that he wanted me. A normal person wouldn't want the person they like to go crazy, right?_

_But what if he only said to fool me?. Does he want me to lose my mind like what happened to those people centuries ago? If so, then why? What have I done to him or to any one to experience something as awful as this?_

_If he's doing what Trevisa had done then he has the book. The question is how did he find it. How many years has he spent studying whatever it was in there?_

_If he has already perfected the process of going in one's dreams, in this case in _my _dreams, then I'm not dealing with a simple wizard who knows a bit of Dark Arts. He must be well-versed in it to accomplish what he'd been doing to me. Do I need to contact Harry and Ron now?_

_The hand that I saw earlier, was that a sign that I'm slowly losing it?_

_Am I already crazy?_

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><p>Lucius was a marked man, that fact he knew. People will forever see him as a Death Eater, a servant to the Dark Lord, a plague to all people, magical or not. He knew that he's the reason why the Malfoy name crumbled into pieces. He almost got his son, his only child, killed and had put his wife's safety in jeopardy. He made a very grave mistake when he swore his allegiance to the Dark Lord. Everyone makes mistakes, he thought, though his weighed heavier than most unlike others, he was given a chance to start anew, to regain what he had lost. Not power, wealth or influence but one thing that's more important than his life, his wealth, his family's prestige or all of it combined - his family, Narcissa and Draco.<p>

He will never admit it to anyone, except to his wife, that he's grateful to the Potter boy. His testimony was the reason why he wasn't sent to Azkaban. When the hearings were being held, he seriously considered that he'll be back in prison,possibly with a lifetime imprisonment. The lad's presence and words at the Wizengamot saved him. But most importantly, he was thankful to the young man because he ended the tyranny and abuse of Lord Voldemort. Lucius knew that he would never stand a chance against his old master. Not because he lacked the ability, but because he's in need of bravery and will to do what was good and right that time.

Now, as he endured his house arrest, Lucius made sure that he will make up to his family. He couldn't turn back the time but he could focus on the present and prepare for the future. He wasn't as bigoted as compared to his previous self but a hint of his old prejudices still lingered in his bearing. He's still Lucius Malfoy after all.

Being an ex-Death Eater and once a Dark Arts enthusiast, Lucius was well-acquainted with the said brand of magic. He's familiar with its quality, its ambiance, being a dedicated practitioner for almost all his life. And now as he sit at his son's study, perusing some documents that the lad had left at his table, Lucius was certain that his son was meddling with something dangerous and grave. He could sense the magic, could almost smell it in the air.

It was almost two years ago that he noticed a change with his only heir. At first, he shrugged the thought away, telling himself that his son was undergoing normal changes. Draco seemed so absorbed in work-related activities and he was, so Lucius kept the thought to himself. He didn't want to add burden on the lad's shoulder and he thought that Draco was just…experimenting, trying out things. He knew that his son was talented and curious, and he's old enough to make his own decisions, so he let days and months pass without mentioning anything. He couldn't blame his son. The Dark Arts was a fascinating field of study. It's mysterious, obscure, like a thing to be unlocked or explored. It held wonders and dangers that could make one's blood boil with thrill and excitement.

He had first-hand experiences with the Dark Arts and he knew how fascinating it could be, but he also knew that that branch of magic held great danger. You could easily get lost in its maze-like ways, get addicted with the power that it could bestow, it could ensnare you in its own specific and haunting ways, hold you until you're gasping and out of breath. Many great wizards and witches had succumbed to its magnificence and enticing attributes. Lucius would never dream of his son to be lined up with those people, that's why he's waiting for Draco's arrival. He's not privy to what his son had been doing but Lucius was certain that Draco was meddling with the Dark Arts. The father and son needed to talk.

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><p>Hermione arrived at her flat later than she had planned. She enjoyed the feast at Hogwarts that it almost made her forget the things that were currently bothering her mind. She had an engaging conversation with Professor Slughorn who asked for some details on her current project. Apparently, the news of Draco Malfoyas her sponsor had already been circulating at the Ministry grapevine. Their impending partnership wasn't a secret but if Hermione would be given a choice, she'll opt to be more private and out of the prying eyes of people.<p>

It was a very demanding day, the brunette thought tiredly while she readied herself to sleep. First was the dream last night or more accurately that morning in which she had been in a field of sunflowers and where he met that man again. Then came her work in the Ministry which was slowly giving her a fair amount of pressure and stress. Third was the intrusion of Draco – the-git-Malfoy to her office and his very strange and confusing personality. Then she found the book at Hogwarts which gave her a much needed background on Bartholomew Trevisa and what he had done to the unfortunate wizards and witches centuries ago. Lastly was the hand she had seen in her closed eyes. Was it just a simple image conjured by her mind? Or was it something that she should give attention to?

_It feels like the happenings of this day could amount to a series of unfortunate events in a week. When has life been so complex and full of unwanted surprises?_

Hermione turned off the light and made herself comfortable in her medium-sized bed. Her body had reached its limit, she's spent and all she wanted was a nice long, satisfying rest where no dreams and no man would disturb her. But as much as she wanted to sleep, her mind was still overly active.

Her eyes screamed that it already wanted to have a break so she closed her eyes gently while she lay on her back. She decided to give-in to her mind and let the thoughts flow freely in her mind. The highlight of her day would be the discovery of Polkinghorn's journal at Snape's collection of books that were now on the restricted section of the Hogwarts library. So far, the journal entry on Trevisa proved to be a dead-end, giving her only an idea on what kind of man the author of Somnium Universitas was and what he did to his enemies. It's now safe to assume that whoever was meddling with her dreams was currently using Trevisa's book. It could also be deduced that the dream-man was an expert, if not, at least well-versed in the dark arts. Everyone could read a book about that but not every person could manage to control the magic behind it. Hermione was a very intelligent witch but she would admit that her knowledge in the Dark Arts was limited. She might be dealing with a very dangerous and possibly a deranged wizard.

But if he's deranged and dangerous, then why hadn't he acted earlier? Why at this time of her life when she's already busy enough without the addition of a spoiled young man with the character of Draco Malfoy that things like this started to happen?

Her life, indeed, had gotten messier.

She closed her eyes and lay on her left side. What she always did whenever she find it hard to sleep was to form an image of the sea in her mind, a serene sea where the water was a shade of green and blue, and where the sky was calm and as clear as the sea. This picture had always helped her in calming her mind.

The image, as it seemed, didn't lose its desired effect. After some time, Hermione fell asleep with the hope that she'll be finally free from distressing dreams or apparitions of the unknown kind.

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><p>AN: A bit short but I enjoyed writing this one especially the part with Lucius. Did you like it? Don't be shy, love, and review. I wanted to thank those who reviewed the last chapter: TempestDashon, Ahkasha, 4SnowWolf, randomfan17, tacker23 and loveroffelton. You guys are awesome and wonderful and great and lovely!

I would also like to give a hug to those who reviewed before; I want to hear more from you.

Thanks for reading guys! Any writer, may he/she be on fiction, non-fiction or fan fiction, would be absolutely blessed with having readers like you. See you on the next one and I promise to post it earlier than anyone of you would expect!

P.S. You could check out my tumblr account under my author name here and if you have the time, please, please vote for Tom Felton in _thehothits _Hottest Male Star Under 25. Salamat!


	12. A Late Night Conversation

Chapter 12: A Late Night Conversation

Disclaimer: Do I have to do this again? Oh well, I guess I should. Better safe than sorry, eh? Harry Potter is not mine. I am not making anything from this. Now, on with the story. Enjoy, dears!

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><p>It was nearing midnight when Draco finally arrived home. The meetings with various business partners in the other side of the world took longer than he expected. He apparated directly at the main receiving area of the Manor. Dim and soft lights covered some parts of the house but the Manor still looked ominous with the dark, large windows that geometrically lined the walls of the massive structure. At this time of the night, the mind could easily warp these as innumerable, dusky and watching eyes.<p>

The only sound that could be heard was the thudding of his footsteps against the paneled floor. He could easily apparate to his bedroom but he took pleasure in surveying the Manor. The sound of his footsteps was familiar, as well as every column and every stairs that he passed. He felt comfort in this. He belonged. The house had seen centuries of dark and happy times, and there were moments that Draco relished this fact - highlighting the history and the people that once set foot at the house.

A few more steps and Draco was finally at his own wing. He was worn-out from all the action of the day. He suddenly remembered his visit with a certain brunette lady and he smiled at the memory that afternoon. He reveled in catching her off-guard and unprepared. That was the only time that he was free to look into the real Hermione. Whenever they met, the brunette was always guarded and cautious. It was like she was building a transparent wall between them or it could be liken to a tower where she sat looking down at him – she was far, unreachable, distant - things that he badly wanted to change.

He was at the last corridor leading to his room when he noticed a light coming from the cracked door of his study. Anger inched into his heart. No one was allowed to go into his study without his permission. He already made that clear to his parents since he took over the management of the family's businesses. Wards had been put up to be sure that no one, not even the house-elves, could go in. He turned his body towards the room and softly walked so as to catch whoever was trespassing unaware. A soft tip at the door was all it took to fully open it, and there Draco saw the intruder- his father.

Lucius had been waiting for Draco for hours, thinking of possible scenarios and his response to each one of them. He was seated behind the desk and was swirling the glass of firewhiskey when the person he's waiting for reappeared at the door. He surveyed his son. Draco was clad in his usual black attire although there were creases and rumples in some places; he looked exhausted. Lucius finished the last drop of the alcohol and finally spoke.

"I didn't know that you always come home this late." The father drawled.

His voice was all-too familiar to the ears of his son but it still held authority and potency which Draco, he assumed, continued to acknowledge.

The son responded by looking at his father coolly. He knew something was up because Lucius never waited for him and almost always masked every emotion that he could see. Well, except for that time years ago at the battle at Hogwarts where his father was evidently concerned for his safety.

Draco walked across the room towards the Chesterfield chair in front of the bookshelf and sat there comfortably.

"It's late, father. Something important must've come up for you to wait for me. "I can still remember the talk that we had regarding my privacy. How long have you been here in _my _room, without _my_ permission?" He stressed.

He wanted to project a calm demeanor because he knew that his father was a master in manipulating people, and showing him any sign of weakness could be a gap that could be used against him, but he's tired and it seemed that his ability to appear disinterested was slowly crumbling. He was also sincerely irritated and angered with the fact that his father had broken through his wards.

Lucius stood up and walked behind his son's chair to gaze at the collection of titles at the bookshelf.

"Not that long, nothing to worry about, Draco. I didn't rummage your things. As you can see, everything is the same as you left it. What I'll say to you won't be long. After this you can retire to your room." His voice was low and dangerous.

Draco recognized it and waited for his father's words. His head was now clear and the cloud of sleepiness immediately vanished.

"I've noticed something." Lucius started. "You could easily hide it to your mother but you know too well that it wouldn't work with me." He felt his father move behind him. "I could sense it, son. Around you, around this room, at your desk, in this very bookshelf. I don't know the particulars in what you're doing but I'm certain as to what you're utilizing to achieve whatever goal you have in mind."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're pertaining to." Draco replied. Voice hard and stern.

"Don't lie to me, Draco!" Lucius bellowed while he turned to face his son. "I'm not naïve. I maybe under this damn house arrest but you know too well my background and the things that I committed. Don't take me lightly. I've lived long enough to know when someone is practicing the Dark Arts." He paused as if to survey the back of his son. "You reek of it. Do you even know that?"

He didn't answer but he could feel repugnance in his father's voice. He already had a suspicion that his father had noticed something, but he didn't give much thought to it to since he's always outside of the Manor.

Draco imitated his father and walked to his desk to lean on the table's edge.

"And if what you're telling me is true, that I'm practicing Dark Magic, what exactly would you do?" He challenged.

"Don't answer me with questions." His father's voice reverted to its dangerous streak, his eyes trained on his son. "You've had your share in the war. You've seen firsthand the Darkness. It stared you in the face; you breathed the same air that it breathed; it walked the corridors of your own home. You knew what the Dark Arts could do. It could easily corrupt you, Draco. You know that." Lucius' eyes were boring into his son. He wanted him to realize the danger of what he's doing.

His son looked back. He won't back down from his father; he wasn't a kid anymore who was thrown in the chaos of the war. He knew he could handle what he's doing. _It's the only way to get to her_.

"What would you want me to do?" was Draco's reply after a lengthy pause while looking at his father.

Lucius let out a long sigh and went to the opened door. He retrieved his cane placed at the side of the entrance and started talking while his back was on his son.

"I could preach to you all night. I could Crucio you until you're begging for mercy. I could force you, physically and magically, to listen to me. I could even talk to your mother to nag you into stopping whatever it is you're doing. But Draco, my eyes are now open and I see you as someone who will fight with all you've got if you feel trapped. So my answer is none. I won't give you any orders and I won't do anything, for now. I will leave you to make your own decision on this matter."

Lucius finally faced his heir. "I am warning you, Draco. Take it from someone who had been at the Dark side. You, out of all people, should know what could happen when you let yourself sink into it. Don't make the same mistakes that I had committed." With that, Lucius exited the room, leaving his son to ponder on their brief conversation.

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><p>Warning: long author's note<p>

I promised to give an early update, right? So here it is. It's short, I know, and I am very, very sorry. But I want to upload this immediately to know if you like my characterization of Lucius and Draco. Are they believable? Have you imagined Lucius acting the way he just did? How about Draco? What aura does he give you? What do you want me to add or to remove? Let me know, loves.

A serious question: What are your thoughts about this story so far? I'm not a native English speaker and I watched this vid in youtube about badly written fanfics. Am I under that category? What are the areas the I need to improve on? I so want to know your opinions. Haters could hate. I don't care anymore, I just want to hear from you all. Review pretty please.

I'll add another chapter soon. I'll make sure to make time for it and I promise to consider your opinions. Big thanks to those who reviewed Ch 11: 4SnowWolf, JaspersEmotionalGirl, loveroffelton, Ahkasha, quendd19, tacker23 and randomfan17. You guys rock!

Thanks for reading!


	13. Let's do this!

Chapter 13: Let's do this!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

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><p>It felt like he was being stabbed in the chest by thousands of needles as the words of his father echoed in his ears. Draco was still at his study, rooted, repeating the conversation that transpired between him and his father.<p>

His suspicions were correct – his father did know something. That explained the look that Lucius always wore whenever they were together. Shrugging off the feeling of unease every time he noticed it was a wrong move. But how did his father knew what he was doing? He had been very, very careful, cautious and subtle. Only a very accomplished Dark Arts practitioner could tell if a person was dealing with it. He thought his father was simply an enthusiast, he was proven wrong. So there were things that he still didn't know about his father.

His shoulders slumped. Was it defeat he's feeling? Guilt? Exhaustion? Remorse? Now that his father had openly expressed his concern, would he immediately stop what he's doing? Were his father's words enough to make him stop his plans? When did his father become so perceptive? And what harm could he be inflicting to anyone? He knew that he was treading on dangerous waters in practicing Dark Magic, but he knew that he will never go to where his father was pointing he would go and he would never, ever cause harm to Hermione.

He knew what he's doing, knew every process that he had to do, knew the effects of what he was practicing. He had studied the book that he found in the most obscure part of their library, and not only for months, but for years he interpreted, analyzed and evaluated the pros and cons of using it. When he first laid eyes on the book, he felt a certain and an unexplainable _pull _towards it, making him curious as to what lay behind the dark cover.

He researched everything that he could find related to the book, _Somnium Universitas _and the author, Bartholomew Trevisa. He read the first few pages of the book and at first, he was reluctant to believe anything stated in there because no one, not even the most powerful witches and wizard had confirmed in seeing or even interacting with any god, and it was still debatable that there were gods and goddesses. The myths, legends and stories about them in the wizarding world, like in the Muggle world, were thought of as creations of the playful mind of humans. It couldn't be possible that this Trevisa dreamed of Morpheus. The initial thought in his mind at that time was that the author was cracked. But he discovered something that totally changed his mind.

When a wizarding official read the will of Severus Snape, Draco found out that he was to receive his godfather's collection of books and other potion instruments and ingredients. He didn't know if it was luck or destiny, or if his godfather was helping him even after his death, but when he had stumbled upon a book in the said collection that he now owned, he knew that _Somnium Universitas _wasn't just a simple Dark Arts tome. He read a journal where he found out the horrible things that Trevisa had done, and from there utilized every means possible to learn more about the man and his abilities. It surprised him to know that a few paintings in the Manor knew of the man. It was totally an accident that the painting at the most unused room in the house had heard him talking to himself and from there it led him to other paintings of his ancestors that heard of Trevisa.

When Trevisa fled the country, he directly went to Draco's ancestors, the Malfois in France, and sought temporary shelter in one of the prestigious families in the country. He was an acquaintance of the patriarch, so he was welcomed and cared for. Draco didn't find out how Trevisa's book came to be a part of their library or what happened to him after he left the Malfoi Castle, but rumors circulated in the ancient paintings that the man seemed to be losing his mind. The few paintings that survived described him as always disheveled, sullen-looking, and seemed to be whispering and talking to his self. He was left alone by most of the Malfois, except for the patriarch, Dragonet Malfoi.

After a vicious attack by an opposing family, Trevisa mysteriously disappeared and was not seen again by anyone. The existence of _Somnium Universitas _was not known by the inhabitants of the castle. Draco presumed that Dragonet Malfoi was the only one who knew of its existence, or even the whereabouts of his acquaintance. Equally suspicious was the fact that not even a single search party looked for the shadowy wizard.

He was woken from his trip down memory lane when the massive and ancient godfather clock that rested near the bookcase struck twelve. It meant that it was half past midnight since it was thirty minutes late. The young man pinched his nasal bridge gently; a massive headache was knocking at his consciousness. He badly needed some rest and peace, but he knew, with the condition of his mind and the battle going on in there, that he wouldn't find solace from sleeping.

Draco straightened himself up and walked towards the door. The only place that he could find comfort was with the brunette witch that haunted his life. Only in her presence could he truly enjoy the feeling of being alive.

When he closed the door, he retrieved his wand at his arm holster, closed his eyes in concentration and chanted a couple of strong spells that he was sure to keep his father from prying into his own room. Sighing in exhaustion, he turned to the corridor leading to his room.

He was staring at the dark ceiling of his massive bedroom. Two hours had passed since he lay down but sleep was as hard to come by as catching a snitch in the middle of a blizzard. His mind was reeling of thoughts about his father, about what he's doing, about Hermione. He wanted to ignore the emotions circling in his heart regarding the words of his father. Remorse was pulsing at the center of his being but anger was also swimming in his veins.

He couldn't understand the play of emotions and thoughts in his mind. Why should he follow his father's advice? He's not a kid anymore. He's the president of Malfoy Enterprises for Merlin's sake! Grave decisions he had made before, critical commands he had given, dangerous dealings he had already faced. What harm could befell anyone? He wasn't hurting anybody, not himself and certainly not Hermione. But was he certain about that? Was he sure that there were no subtle effects of what he's doing? Did he truly know _everything_ about the book?

He didn't consider himself as an expert in the ways of Dark Magic but he knew enough to know if something he's doing was causing any harm. First of all, his intention was not to cause damage or hurt to anyone, most of all to the woman that he loved and adored secretly for years. That was the first ingredient of a truly powerful Dark Magic – the intent to maim, to torture, to harm. He could never entertain the idea of Hermione being hurt. Once was enough. That time when he watched his aunt put her in such misery and agony was enough to make him dream of it every night for months. The memory of her writhing form and her screams that eventually turned into hoarse moans made him want to hurt himself for being useless. He blamed himself for not protecting her, for allowing her to be treated as filth by his own family, for being such a coward when the time came for him to stand up for his own beliefs. He won't let anything of that sort to happen again.

Second, his only desire was to be with her even for the briefest of moment. His initial plan when he discovered the book was to make Hermione madly and deeply in love with him. He would appear in her dreams as a shadow, and he will coax her, talk to her, show her and make her feel his love. He will make her want his touches, his kisses, and his very presence. He thought that by allowing her subconscious to recognize his warmth, she would easily fall for him when the time comes that he will act personally. He didn't have any idea if it's working but something in her eyes and the way she held herself whenever they see each other told him that he's affecting her somehow. Of course, nothing was certain in his designs but he will take any chance, even if it's considered as dangerous, to be close to her.

Draco shifted his body to his right and stared at the empty space of his bed before him. His pale fingers and hand longingly touched the pillow and the covers of that area, feeling its silky yet cold quality. He had everything that a man could want. He had money, he's the president of a multinational enterprise, he could easily get a woman, even women all at once, in his bed, their family was slowly but surely regaining its prestige, but he still felt incomplete and his life, as he always thought, was bleak. His dream, his only desire, his only need was for that space to be filled by Hermione. She was his paradise, his yearning, his dream and soon, very soon, she will be his.

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><p>She wrapped a brown scarf on her neck, completing her comfortable and cozy look with her plain, white shirt, dark jeans and boots. After checking if the wards were active, Hermione left the building and went to the park for a bit of a walk under the crisp autumn afternoon. She planned on visiting Sebastian, the old bookstore owner, which she befriended. He contacted her that morning to inform her that the book she's waiting for was already available.<p>

The afternoon was gray and bleak. The tall trees at the park were shedding their golden-orange leaves to ready for the coming winter. The wind was cool and mild, and it fanned her face lightly, making the strands of her brown, wavy hair move with the breeze. Her hands immediately went up to her head, fixing the strands of her slightly frizzy mane. Ginny did all she could to coax her into using some potions available on the market. The ginger-haired claimed that they were most effective and Hermione would really lose nothing if she tried some of the products. But as always, she declined it, stating that she's given with that kind of hair so she won't meddle with the works of nature. Besides, she's absolutely comfortable on how she looked – she's not ugly, not hideous, just..just Hermione. Simple Hermione.

She treaded the cobbled lane of the park, looking at the trees and people before her without really seeing anything. Her mind was wandering to the events of the week. The week to say the least wasn't boring at all. First was the time when Malfoy went to her office announced. To add to that was their accidental meetings that happened twice in a span of three days. The first time was at the Ministry Atrium Thursday evening when she was about to go home. The second was at Flourish and Blotts yesterday when she was looking at the new releases of the store. Her reaction at both those times was to be on guard, to be ready for his teasing, but both times he proved her assumptions wrong because Malfoy reacted civil, almost courteous, towards her.

Where was the predictable spoiled brat that she endured for years?

His personality baffled her to no end because as she refreshed her mind, the last time they met was at her office and Draco clearly acted like a prat. The seemingly fluctuations in his moods – the cold, calculating man to the sarcastic, pureblood elite and now to a civil gentleman that even asked her for some tea – was slowly getting on her nerves. But at the same time it made her curious and interested on what was going on in the fair yet massive head of his. He was so mercurial now that she wanted to know badly what made him tick and what his agenda in being her sponsor. Tomorrow was her scheduled meeting with him and she couldn't imagine what he would be like once they started negotiating and planning her project. Oh, and tomorrow was also her 25th birthday.

She knew that there was a "surprise" party for her, arranged by none other than the-boy-who-defeated-Voldemort, but her two lovely best friends lacked the tact and secrecy needed for such thing to accomplish. She overheard the two talking at a corner of the bar which was on the way to the powder room. Apparently, they were planning on fixing her apartment for the occasion. She didn't plan on telling them that she knew; she will act as if everything was _real_, a _true_ surprise_._

A genuine smile graced her face when the image of Ron and Harry appeared in her mind. They only wanted her to enjoy that special day in her life so it's just right to not destroy their hopes and plans.

Unbeknownst to the brunette was that her smile also brought another smile to a pair of lips owned by a tall, lean and blond-haired man that had been following her the moment she left her apartment. He had been staying at the room next to hers since Thursday, mainly because he wanted to be close to her and because of the talk with his father. He was wearing muggle clothing - a cap, shades, a dark blue shirt and black baggy pants. It was very inconspicuous in his opinion but a couple of giggling girls at his back told him otherwise.

He didn't have eyes for them, though, for his greys were only trained on the brunette woman that was walking languidly a couple of feet from him. It was really a blessing that she was so trained on her thoughts that she never once looked back or even felt his stares. Already etched on his mind and memory was the outline of her body, the way her hair move with the wind and how her arms swayed as she walked.

It was her 25th birthday tomorrow and he deliberately settled that date for their first meeting. He planned on giving her a gift, but it had to be discreet, something that she won't figure out as a present for her. He already had something in mind and he hoped, even prayed, that she will like it.

Hermione was oblivious to the silver eyes that were literally boring into her form. She was so focused on her thoughts about the dreams that she's having. She didn't know if the man haunting her sleep knew of her discovery of Polkinghorn's journal, but she had a suspicion because since that day of reading the purple book up to last night, he had been present in her nights.

The setting was the same as the last dream - they were in a field of sunflowers were the sun was always aglow and the wind always cool to the skin. One of the difference of this dream from her previous ones was that he started bringing her books which he urged her to read. Another thing was that he also kept his distance from her.

She didn't read the books...on the first night. Eventually, her curiosity got the better of her and on the next night, she tried reading one of the tomes and to her great surprise, she liked, no, loved the book which was about contemporary potions masters all over the world and their most distinguishing creations. She just finished the book last night and it bothered her immensely that she was almost looking forward to her dream tonight. Her brows furrowed at this. Never! She's not excited nor anticipating the man who had been intruding her nights and who had violated her body. No! She's not an easy, unthinking woman and who would even like a shadow that only appeared in one's dreams?

Convinced with her reasoning, Hermione shook her head for the last time and finally went to the street leading to Sebastian's store.

* * *

><p>She's staring at the tall buildings before her. Malfoy Towers was a very imposing structure that dwarfed the buildings surrounding it. It was painted in impeccable white - very neutral and professional-looking. This was the first meeting between Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy as official partners. She wanted to exude calmness and professionalism but her insides were not cooperating with her today.<p>

Why was she so nervous and so tense? It's just Malfoy for goodness' sake! She had known him for years, and not once did she feel this..this anxious. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.

_You can do this, Hermione. Stay calm. This is just one of the hundreds of meetings that you will have to attend in this profession that you chose. Breathe. Breathe. _She calmed herself with these thoughts, and she was thankful because the rapid beating of her heart returned to its normal rate.

She took calculated steps towards the front glass doors of the building and was welcomed by the personnel assigned to the area. She headed for the front desk which was lined by a couple of women.

"Good morning. I'm Hermione Granger and I have an appointment with Mr. Malfoy." She said.

The middle-aged receptionist looked at her and then to a piece of paper she's currently holding, then her head shot up as if seeing Hermione for the first time.

"Oh! Ms. Hermione Granger! _The _Hermione Granger! Good morning, too!" The woman reached for her hand and shook it rather vigorously. "I've always been a fan. I am truly honored to meet you." Hermione only smiled to that. The woman continued. "Mr. Malfoy is expecting you. Kindly take the elevator to your left. It's a direct elevator to the President's office."

Hermione thanked the ecstatic woman and went to the elevator. She counted the time it took the compartment to reach the top floor. One minute, fifty-eight seconds. The sound of the opening elevator was ringing in her ears. She once again took a big gust of air when the doors of the elevator opened.

_Okay, Mione. Let's do this!_

* * *

><p>AN: First of all, I want to thank queendd19, loveroffelton, JaspersEmotionalGirl, 4SnowWolf, randomfan17 and rainy-summersftw for reviewing. I do appreciate the ideas from you all.

I'm super thankful that I finished this chapter. I'm really not feeling well as of now. I have this terrible problem with either my kidneys or lungs. Not yet sure because the results will only be up on Monday. Oh, I hope everything will be fine.

On a lighter note, could you, guys, give some ideas on what Draco would give Hermione? As you know, I haven't done the next chappy and I totally write at the pleasure of my imagination. Right now, it has not yet given me a _worthy _gift for Mione. Send me your love and review! Ideas, opinions and criticisms are very welcome.

Thank you so much for reading!


	14. Birthday

Chapter 14: Birthday

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the plot. Harry Potter is not mine.

* * *

><p>The elevator door swung open and her hazel-colored eyes fell on the Malfoy insignia located at the wall in front of her – an elaborate letter M embossed in a sort of badge with two imposing dark green dragon on both of its side. The image was large enough for her to notice that the eyes of the dragons were of the color of dark mercury – almost the same as the eyes of the person she was about to meet. The scales were of deep moss but a slight tilt of the head of the viewer will reveal that it had tinges of silver.<p>

A high-pitched voice wakened Hermione from her musings, "Ms. Granger?" It came from the receptionist or was she Malfoy's secretary? Must be the latter. The lady was very attractive - the likes that typical men would fall for. Her hair was blonde, eyes bright blue and she wore a figure-hugging Muggle dress that accentuated her already plump breasts.

"Ah. Yes, yes. I'm Hermione Granger." She blinked thrice to get her bearings back.

The receptionist slash secretary flashed her pearly whites. "Please, follow me. The president is expecting you. He's at the conference hall for your meeting."

Hermione frowned. She peeked at her wristwatch which was covered by the sleeves of her suit. "Already? But it's still ten minutes before our meeting. "

"Well, Mr. Malfoy knows that you'll be early. He said that you've always been punctual."

"Really?" Hermione said more to herself.

They were at a long hall with high ceilings and with walls painted with cream. The sound of both their heels was the only noise that the brunette heard. It surprised her that she felt an unexplainable dread in her chest. Why was she so nervous and so tense? It's just Malfoy and some members of his Board. It's not as if this was the first time that she'll be presenting in front of people. She even made an impromptu speech in front of the Minister when she was just starting in the Ministry. This meeting should be a breeze to her. But it was not, her knees were wobbly and she felt weak. Her steps were rather small and insignificant compared to the strutting woman in front of her. What's happening to her? Why feel so small now? Maybe it's because of who's she presenting to. Maybe it's because she didn't understand Malfoy anymore.

They stopped at the second to the last door - a mahogany double door with gold-colored handles. The lady knocked three times and turned the knob for Hermione. The brunette took two steps inside. At the end of the long table was Malfoy, his back was at them. He appeared to be looking at the view offered to him through the glass wall of the room. When he spoke, his voice appeared to resound throughout the room. "I knew it." He stood up from his seat and faced his employee and his visitor.

"Knew what?" Hermione couldn't contain herself from speaking. All notion of nervousness was gone. This was Malfoy she's facing, there's no room for second guessing herself and her abilities.

Malfoy didn't answer her question but he kept his gaze at her while he spoke to his secretary. "You could leave now, Eliza. I'll call for you if I and Miss Granger need anything else."

"Okay, sir." And then Hermione heard the door shut.

They had been staring at each other for exactly five seconds and Hermione couldn't take the silence anymore. She cleared her throat and was about to speak when Malfoy spoke.

"Please, take a seat, Granger." He smirked and lightly shook his head when Hermione took the seat directly opposite him so that the two were both at the end of the long rectangular table. "I mean here." Mentioning her to take a seat beside him.

She huffed and took her bag which housed the papers she needed for the presentation. Her tongue was itchy for a comeback, but she kept her mouth shut, fearing that she might blow it up if she let her conflicting feelings get the better of her. What exactly is happening to her? One second she's nervous to meet him and then a moment would pass and she was angry and irritated towards him. What's going on with her? And now that his silver eyes, which reminded her of the eyes of the dragons on the insignia, were boring into her, she felt squirming from discomfort.

She reached the swivel chair at his right side and put her things on the table.

"I thought we will have a meeting. Where are the members of your Board? They're a part of this project, right?" Her head and back turned to take in the whole room.

"Take a seat first, Granger and I'll explain to you everything."

"But…"

"Sit, Granger."

She wasn't used to being ordered around but she complied. "Fine." He was her sponsor, after all. He could easily take back his words since they hadn't signed anything yet; finding another funder would take months, even years, so she would allow him to command her for the meantime.

Malfoy walked over to the glass wall overlooking Muggle London. "You're wondering why we're alone in this room. You and me."

His voice was cool and low, very soothing to the ears. She waited for his words and looked at his back, watching his right hand as it traced invisible lines on the glass.

"The truth, Granger, is that there are no members of my Board that will attend this meeting."

"What? Why?"

"I told them that I'll be handling everything regarding this matter."

"You could do that? But they're a part of this company."

The blond man turned to her. Both of his hands were now in his pockets. She couldn't see his eyes and face, though, because of the light from the outside. "You're forgetting who you're dealing with."

"Oh, right. You're Malfoy. T_he_President."

A soft chuckle came from him. She never heard him laugh before. It sounded good, happy, light.

"Yes. I'm _the_President." He mimicked her pronunciation. "I'm now the head of the Malfoy Enterprises, in case you're wondering. Everything I said is law in here."

Hermione stood up and crossed her arms in front of her. _He was reverting back to his old arrogant self. Maybe he's suffering from some psychological disorder._

"I will never be under your laws, Malfoy."

He walked towards her. She thought that he will resume his seat at the head of the table but he swerved to his left and took the seat directly opposite to her.

"I've guessed that much. Let's start this meeting, Granger." He looked at her playfully and wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Hermione raised her right eyebrow. "Okay, let's get down to business." And she finally took a seat and set the needed papers in front of her.

_Two hours and seventeen minutes later…_

"…So, I need to look for more sponsors if I want this institute to reach its full potential."

"I beg to differ, Hermione. But I _am_ capable of providing _everything_ of your needs."

There was glint in his eyes that she couldn't read. He had been using her given name ever since they officially started the meeting, but it still irked her to know that she felt a certain tingle in her stomach whenever he said her name.

"I do not doubt your capabilities, Malfoy. What I've been trying to explain for the past twenty minutes is that I need other sponsors so that you wouldn't have to shoulder everything. Is that hard to understand? I mean, I'm only thinking of your own welfare here. This institution will not only cost you a couple of galleons. The initial computation amounted to almost three million."

He smirked at her. "You _are_ underestimating me. You don't need other sponsors, Granger. That amount will not make any dent in the company's accounts. I will take care of everything. Just send me the initial ledger and I will go over it." He crossed his arms in finality.

"But Malfoy…."

"And would you stop calling me by my last name. I know that it has a certain ring to it, but I'm rather fed up with hearing it all day. Hmm?" He looked at her patronizingly. His eyes still held that unreadable glint.

She squinted her eyes, trying to know the enigma that was Draco Malfoy. "Why?" Her voice sounded small. This simple question had been dancing around her mind ever since she found out that he volunteered to be her sponsor.

"What why?" He stood up and walked back to the glass wall. He seemed entranced with the view that it offered him.

"Why are you doing this? Helping me? Volunteering to be my sponsor?" She didn't want to sound rude but she can't help her curiosity. "Are you using me so that you could appeal to the wizarding community?"

Silence and then he finally spoke. "I wonder when you'll finally have the courage to ask that. It seemed that I don't have to wait."

Okay, so it seemed that she offended him. She lowered her gaze to the floor in a mixture of embarrassment to Malfoy and to herself. She could really be tactless sometimes.

"Um, you don't have to answer that. I'm…" What she was about to say was cut off by the man she's talking to. He was before her, towering over her. His arms were on the both sides of the arm rest of the chair. He stooped slightly. She was trapped.

His grey eyes held her caramel-colored ones. She couldn't suppress the widening of her eyes and her sudden gasp for air.

How did he get to her so fast? Why was he looking at her like that? Was her question enough to anger him like this?

She could see the small lines of blue in his eyes. He was so close. So close that she could smell him –musky but not too strong; it wasn't entirely a masculine scent. There were some vestiges of something floral, something she had smelt before, something…something…

"I am not using you, Hermione."

His breath was minty, cool and..and familiar? His voice was low, almost husky and rough, sending shivers to her spine. His eyes were searching her own, looking for something that she had no idea of.

Hermione was getting heady from the onslaught of his scent and from the way he looked at her. Her breathing was shallow and she could hear the beating of her heart. She held her breath, trying to block his suffocating yet appealing fragrance. What exactly was happening to her? When did Malfoy had so much effect on her?

A knock at the door broke the spell they were both in. Malfoy straightened up. His eyes were still fixed on the brunette.

The door swung open revealing Eliza, the secretary.

"Mr. Malfoy" She looked at the couple, hesitant to deliver her message. The tension in the room was very much obvious. "Your meeting with the French delegates is in thirty minutes. Will I inform them that you'll be late?"

Malfoy finally lifted his gaze from Hermione. "No need. I'll be there."

"Very well, sir." The secretary seemed to want to see more, but the gaze that her boss was giving her told her to mind her own business.

He resumed his position at the glass window. "I expect to receive the ledger in two days' time. After that, I'll owl you of the schedule of our next meeting."

His tone expressed finality, and Hermione happily agreed that this meeting was now adjourned. Her knees were still weak from the close encounter that she had with the blond. So she waved her wand to tidy her things up. It wouldn't do if she show him how affected she was by his presence.

"I-I'll go now, Malfoy." She waited for a reply but it seemed that the blond will not spare her some. She awkwardly walked back to the door; her heels were rhythmically thumping on the floor. She turned the knob and was about to step out of the door when she heard him say something that she had never heard from him before.

"Happy birthday, Hermione."

They had been at Hogwarts for years and she never imagined, or even thought about the chance of Malfoy greeting her. She was utterly surprised that he even knew of her birthday.

She faced him once more. He was also looking at her, but as before, she couldn't see his expression because of the light. Hermione could only think of one response to that.

"Thank you…Draco." With that she finally stepped out of the conference hall.

* * *

><p>She flooed to the Ministry using one of the fireplaces at Malfoy Towers. Her usual self would be fussing about the meeting, about the details, about the issues tackled, but right now, Hermione was not her usual self. She could only think of one thing, of one person – Draco Malfoy.<p>

Knowing the date of her birth was easy, but greeting her? Now, that's something unusual. Draco Malfoy never greeted her. Ever. He was not himself. Something was going on, something that he might be brewing.

His looks, his actions and now his words towards her were very suspicious. His reaction when she asked him about his intentions was a proof of that. He's up to something….

She opened the door to their department; another surprise greeted her in the face. Flying confetti was everywhere and the singing began. It was that awkward moment wherein Hermione didn't know what to do. She wanted peace and solitude but it seemed that it will be hard to come by.

"Happy birthday, Hermione!" Came the chorus of greetings from her co-workers after the song.

"Wow! Thanks!" The brunette replied, blushing slightly from the attention the she was receiving. "I never expected this. Really. Thank you everyone."

Her assistant came forward and handed her a plate full of food. "It's nothing, Miss Hermione. You deserve a celebration."

She reached for the plate. Oh, she's pretty hungry. The stress and tension of her meeting with Malfoy took all of her energy. People greeted her here and there. Fortunately, she was led by her assistant to an unoccupied table at the coffee area. Some peace at last.

"Mr. Malfoy is one gallant sponsor." Hermione heard her over-polite assistant said in between drinking juice and eating cake.

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't he tell you?" Her assistant finished her drink. "He planned all of this, bought everything and acquired the permission of Mr. Lanphear to hold this party."

"HE DID WHAT?" She screamed. Some people in the area looked at them. The brunette smiled apologetically and tried to act as normal as possible. She gently squeezed the wrist of the other lady and whispered to her. "All of these," she looked around, then on the plate of food in front of her, "was planned by Malfoy?"

Her assistant looked surprised at her reaction. "Why, yes. He came here last Saturday to talk to Mr. Lanphear. The party's a surprise so I didn't tell you anything, but I'm quite sure that Mr. Malfoy would've dropped hints while you're conducting your meeting with him."

Hermione released her hold on Dahlia's wrist and retained her seat, almost slouching on the chair. "No, he didn't. He just greeted me, which was a shocker since, well, you know our history, right?"

Her assistant nodded her head. "Maybe he wants to pay back all the awful things that he did when you were kids. Maybe this is his..what do you call that? Ah! Peace offering!"

Hermione sighed, conflicting thoughts were in her head. "Maybe."

"But he sure is gallant. He made another donation in our department. Do you know that?" Her assistant was taking care of another plate of food.

Hermione's reaction must've answered her assistant's query.

"So, nope. Must be good to live his kind of life. It seems so easy for him to throw his galleons away."

"He _is _Malfoy. No one really knows how rich they are." The brunette answered.

Dahlia stood up. "Well, I'm just glad that he's favoring our department more than the others. It must be because you are here, Miss Hermione." She smiled knowingly and then went to the crowd.

* * *

><p>It was exactly seven when she arrived at her apartment door. It would be easier to just Floo or apparate but she knew that Harry and Ron prepared a "surprise" party for her. She shook her head lightly and smiled at herself. <em>Her boys will always be boys.<em>

She silently wished that Ginny joined in the planning. Her closest girl friend was very good at things like this, but she's busy enough with all the tours that their team was doing, so squeezing time for a petty thing as a birthday party was impossible.

Ginny already owled her that morning and she said that she won't be able to see her that day. Along with the mail was her gift for Hermione: a set of hair products that the girl deemed will be good for the brunette's wild curls.

She unlocked the door and slowly turned the knob fully expecting the happy and jolly faces of her close friends. But when she finally turned the lights on, she saw her living room – bare, uncluttered, devoid of any existing life form.

_Hmm..they must be hiding here somewhere._

She walked towards the kitchen, then to her room, and finally to the guest bedroom. None. No one was at her house, or had been at her house; everything was in their right place.

_They couldn't have forgotten it, right? I heard them talking about their plan._

Hermione bit her lip. She wanted to see her friends, spend some time with them, talk, laugh and joke with them. She knew that she was slowly pulling away from her close friends. Her job was demanding, that she knew, and her slight obsession in doing everything perfectly and in delivering faultless results was not helping her from bridging the slowly widening gap of their friendship. But wait, she shouldn't be saddened. Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna and the others were busy, too. Maybe some of them have appointments or maybe got caught in a meeting or two.

The sound of tapping at her window broke her from her thoughts.

_Who could this be? Maybe it's Harry, an emergency at the department could hold both him and Ron from carrying out their surprise for me._

She walked towards the window, opened it and received the delivery of the owl. The beast immediately flew away after relieving itself of the package; the small brown envelope fell on the couch.

Hermione reached for it, and noticed that there was a slight bulge at its right end. She opened the envelope slowly. There was no letter inside; instead, there was what she deduced as a bookmark decorated with scarlet and gold. She reached for it and when her hand made contact with the bookmark, she felt the familiar tug of a Portkey being activated.

Her surroundings became a kaleidoscope of colors. Her feet then hit a wooden floor which was immediately followed by a chorus of voices singing Happy Birthday. She was at the Grimmauld Place, decorated for the occasion. The room they were in, which was the kitchen, was oozing with the smell of long table was filled with nourishments and drinks, ready to be consumed.

"Happy birthday, Mione!" came Ron's voice, then Fred and George, then a body-squeezing hug from Mrs. Weasley. It seemed that every member of the clan was there, even Ginny.

"Got you there!" said the youngest Weasley child.

Harry appeared with a smile that reached his ears, bearing a cake full of candles ready to be blown by the celebrant. "Happy birthday, Mione!" He said after kissing her cheek. "Make a wish."

All this time, Hermione was speechless, shocked, relieved, and oh-so-glad. Tears were starting to pool around her eyes. "Everyone…this is just so…so..I didn't..I thought…Oh bother!" She ended, wiping her eyes. "Just thank you! Thank you all for this!"

"Oi, this is not the time for tears, Mione." Fred tapped her shoulders lightly. "Blow the candles and make a wish before Ron attacks your cake."

The witch complied, closed her eyes for two seconds and finally blew the candles.

"Now, the party's really starting!" Ron bellowed who immediately went to the table.

* * *

><p>It was thirty minutes before midnight when Hermione finally arrived at her apartment. With her was Harry who said that since it's still her birthday, she needed to be treated as a Queen, thus, he Apparated them both to her apartment.<p>

"I had so much fun, Harry. You guys don't know how much this means to me." She said while slumping to the couch while stretching her tired arms and legs.

Her best friend joined her. "It's nothing, Mione. You deserve it. But you should've seen your face when you were finally at my place." He said half-laughing.

She slapped him slightly on the arms, moving to face him. "I almost panicked, did you know that? Thought I was being abducted by some vengeful Death Eater or something. But the party was really, really nice, and I got so much gifts!"

She reached for her pocket and brought out her ever useful beaded purse which she always brought with her.

"Really, thank you Harry, and Ron and Ginny, too." She moved and hugged her friend tightly.

Her friend hugged her with equal intensity. "It's nothing, Mione." He released her from the embrace and looked at her straightly. "Just remember that we will always be here for you. You got that? If you have any problem or whatnot, don't hesitate to talk to us. I know that we all seem to be very busy, but we're always ready to lend an ear."

"Wow, Harry. You're so serious." She said jokingly. "But I will remember that."

"I'm just a bit worried," he answered. "that we're slowly losing each other, that we're losing you. I know that we still see each other at least once a week, but it feels different, something _is_ different. I just don't know what it is."

"Aww..don't worry, Harry. Everything's fine with me," she suddenly remembered her project with her previous nemesis, "well, maybe except with my partnership with Malfoy. That is something different."

He stood up. "Why? Does he give you a hard time? Did he do something nasty again? I can pull some strings to - "

"Harry, stop!" she yelled. "Malfoy is..he's not that kid anymore," she said slowly, choosing her words carefully.

"Then what's the problem?" He retained his seat. "He as your principal sponsor is shady. I think you should think again whether you'll continue your partnership with Malfoy. Have you signed any papers with him?"

The witch shook her head. "No, not yet. We're still discussing the basic stuff, right now. And the problem is not really a problem, Harry. You see, Malfoy is not that bully anymore. Well, sometimes he is and other times he's not." She said more to herself.

"I don't understand. So you're saying that he is good now? I mean, the news is all true?"

"Yes and…no." Hermione bit her lower lip, a sign that meant that she was concentrating very hard. The memories of her encounters with the blond were on her mind "Maybe it's because I haven't interacted with him for so long that he seemed so different to me now. Or maybe because he did change for the better. But it could also be because we didn't really know the Malfoy before." The last bit was a sort of bulb that lighted in her head. "We never did know him. We were so caught up with fighting him off to try to understand him."

"You have a point, Mione. But that doesn't change what he had done. Remember of all the things that he did when the war was going on. He's a death eater then, albeit a forced one."

Hermione leaned her head on Harry's shoulders. "I know, Harry. But that doesn't mean we couldn't be friends with him, or at least give him a chance to show to us that he's changed."

"You can do that. But remember, if he did anything out of bounds, just contact me. Hmm?"

"Don't worry, dad. I will." She said laughing. "Now, time to go home. Ginny, surely, is waiting for you."

"Right." He stood up and took a handful of floo powder. "Oh, Mione. I almost forgot to ask you."

"What is it?"

"What happened to those weird dreams of yours?"

"Ah..about them. Well, they..they stopped already. Guess it was just the stress from work and nothing else. Just an episode of overactive imagination coupled with paranoia." She reasoned out.

Harry looked at her, searching if what she's telling was true. "Are you sure? If anything's bothering you, you only have to tell us and we'll help you"

"I'm sure, Harry. I'm perfectly fine. No dreams, no nightmares."

"Well, okay. I'll be going now. Good night and happy birthday, Mione."

"Good night, Harry. And tell Ginny that I'll get back to her someday."

"I'll tell her. See you!" Harry threw the powder and was gone in an instant.

Hermione went to her room. The day was exceptional. She had so much fun with her friends and she considered this birthday as the best so far. Apparently, her boys deliberately allowed her to listen to their conversation and all along, Ginny was behind the preparation for the party.

She immediately prepared to sleep. The immediate absence of company told her that she was so tired and badly in need of some good night's rest. Five minutes before the clock struck midnight, she was comfortably snuggled in her blanket and pillows. But before she could finally close her eyes, a rapping sound came from the door of her balcony.

She warily walked towards it and saw a regal-looking eagle owl bearing a pretty huge package. Hermione immediately opened the door and the owl lightly settled his delivery on her desk, then it immediately flew away into the darkness of the night. At first, the witch just stood in front of her desk, staring at the delivery. It was covered with a dark green wrapper. She slowly and delicately unwrapped it. Inside was a book, but not just any other book, it was the exact tome that she enjoyed reading in her dreams, the one that the dream-man had urged her to try and the one that she truly enjoyed.

The brunette looked at her surroundings, worried that any moment an unknown man would appear. She realized that the door was still open so she locked it with trembling hands. The night immediately became darker, sinister and threatening. No other person knew that she liked this particular book. She told no one, not even to her friends. Only one person knew of her liking to it. Only one.

She knew that she shouldn't make any physical contact with the book so she accioed her wand and checked it for any traces of magic. There was nothing, so the brunette decided to examine it more closely. She reached to touch and open it. It was an exaggeration but her heart was about to come out of her chest. She felt fear but there was anticipation, thrill and excitement. What's happening to her?

Nothing happened when her hand finally made contact with the book. The texture, the weight, the feel of the pages under her hands was the same. It _was _the same book. She's sure of it – the same copy that she held in her dreams. She turned the pages fast upon remembering that she folded one of the corners of the paper. It was in page 207 – her favorite chapter. And there was it, the fold that she personally made.

How did this happen? Did it mean that her dreams were actually true? That everything was _really_ happening?

_Now what should I do? _She heard Harry's voice in her mind "_If anything's bothering you, you only have to tell us and we'll help you."_

This was certainly bothering her. It wasn't normal anymore. Well, everything connected with the dream-man was never normal. What should she do? Finally reveal to her friends everything?

_No. I can handle this. I've got everything under control. _Her mind answered her own queries.

She lifted the book and saw that a letter was included with the gift. Setting the book down, she picked the letter up and saw that it was addressed to her. She also noticed that like the previous letter she received from her friends, this was also slightly bulging, as if there was something in there.

She took the letter out and finally saw the article. Holding it in her hands, she couldn't help her sudden intake of breath. It was sunflower necklace, the copy of the flowers that she had been seeing in her slumber.

The chain was the color of silver but the lone flower was of bright yellow, every petal accented with small precious sgems. The two leaves at its side were of dark green color and were also made of studded gems. The article was breathtaking. It was simple yet sophisticated, not overly feminine but elegant.

She read the brief letter:

_Happy birthday, my heart. I hope you like my gifts for you. I would have loved to give these to you personally, so that I could see your reaction, and hopefully, the beautiful smile that will grace your face. _

_I am looking forward to seeing you again, Hermione, my love._

Hermione sat at her chair, the necklace was still in her hands. She held it high, level with her eyes.

_What did he mean by again? He must've been in the Ministry this afternoon. That's the only place that I went to except in Malfoy Towers. But could it be that he was at the building? No. Impossible. In the Ministry, that must be where he saw me. _

She had no idea what his location or even his name was so she had no choice but to keep the presents. And it's not as if she didn't want these. Truth be told. She liked the two items immensely. She wasn't materialistic, or the type of girl that wished to be lavished with gifts. By looking at the article, she knew that it cost a necklace that she was still looking at held a certain mystery, a pull that she couldn't describe.

The brunette made her way back to her bed. It was exactly twelve. She laid at her back, her right still held the necklace while the book remained on her table. The coldness of the material was good to the skin. She looked at it for the last time and placed it on her bedside table.

Never did she wish to fall asleep this much. The thought of talking with her admirer was racing her heart beat. She wanted to ask him a ton of questions. She hated not knowing and she wanted to know about how he can manipulate her dreams, of how he came to know her, of when he started liking her, and so much more. She was getting scared of herself because she was slowly looking forward to those dreams.

As she closed her eyes, her own voice resounded in her ears as she made her wish when she blew her candles.

_I wish..I wish to see him._

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><p>AN: I'm sorry that it took me so long to update. Are you still there, guys? I'm alright now and the problem is my lungs. Not life-threatening but it sure is painful.

Anyway, I hope you liked this chappy. And thanks for those who shared their ideas, especially to 4SnowWolf, loveroffelton, Ahkasha, tacker23 and randomfan17. You are the bestest readers/reviewers anyone could have. This story is getting longer than I planned so expect that the the pace will be faster for the future chapters. I will also try to make it longer so that it'll be worth your wait. Tell me your ideas, lovelies!

Anyone here who has a Pottermore account? PM me your username and I'll add you.

Thank you for reading and I am waiting for your feedback. See you!


	15. Nightmare

Chapter 15: Nightmare

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. No profit is being made off of this work.

First that time that I have a beta. Thanks Cecilia1204!

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><p>She didn't want to open her eyes but the brightness against her closed lids told her sleep-addled mind that she was slowly emerging from her slumber. Or was she? Her limbs felt well-rested and the soreness of her muscles was already gone. It seemed as if she had been sleeping for hours.<p>

Suddenly, Hermione felt something warm and soft brush against her forehead. Groaning, she shifted and moved her head closer, seeking the source of heat. She inhaled deeply and the familiar scent of grass filled her senses, combined with muskiness that she knew belonged to only one being though her mind at this time was like an unoiled machine, slow in comprehending. Thoughts were dawdling leisurely in her mind.

Once again, she felt something warm, now on her left cheek, slowly gliding towards her jaw. Her mind slowly registered it as the back of someone's hand. She sighed in contentment at the contact. The simple touch was warming her insides. It was comfortable and familiar, as if the hand had made the gesture a million times. Hermione wanted to open her eyes but sleepiness was overpowering her. She wanted to fight it badly but the continuous gentle stroke of her face seemed to serve as a lullaby.

Suddenly, soft puffs of breath warmed her left ear, and a voice whispered, "Happy birthday, love." Of course, it was him, the man in her dreams.

Soft, warm lips made contact with her closed eyes, then her nose, gliding slowly to her lips and neck, kissing and nipping her exposed skin. She felt a hand travel from her face down to her collar bone, pausing at her clothed breast, giving it a firm squeeze, making her release a low moan.

A growl was detected by her ears and the hands continued their travel down to her stomach then to her hips, gripping both her sides. His lips didn't stop their assault on her neck. They were now latched on to her pulse point, alternately sucking and licking it gently. He then cupped her behind so that her body was completely moulded into him. She arched her back in response, longing to be closer, nearer to this man. She felt his weight over her and she liked how comfortable it felt.

Hermione's body was responding to every kiss and touch, just like her mind which seemed to allow his advances. Her skin burned with every contact. She longed to touch him, his hair, his face, but she found out that she couldn't move her arms. They were over her head, not tied or pinned, just resting there but immovable. She tried opening her eyes but found that she couldn't.

But she didn't care anyway. All she wanted was for this to last… Wait. What was she thinking? She wanted this? Since when?

Her mind wanted to reason this out, to justify her actions, but his lips were now on hers, distracting her thoughts. He nibbled her lower lip then licked it, seeking permission. She complied eagerly, partly opening her lips. The unseen man took this opportunity and instantly he was kissing her passionately and forcefully.

His breath was warm and minty, his lips soft and full against her own. His aroma was intoxicating. She answered meekly, hesitant and uncertain of herself.

When did she start to like him? If she was in a right state of mind, she would definitely say that she had a thing for him. But was she?

_I have?_She questioned herself, not knowing the answer or maybe not wanting to know the answer.

He continued to kiss for a few more moments and then stopped, both of them panting from the effort and from the lack of air. One of his hands remained on her ass, the other cupped her face and she felt his warm breath fanning over her face and his soft hair brushing her brow. He knew that she was already wide awake.

"You taste sinfully good, Hermione," he said while giving her face light kisses. She wanted to see him but she still couldn't open her eyes.

"This is another gift from me. I hope you like it." He referred to what he was doing to her body.

Hermione felt his lips curve upwardly while showering her face and neck with kisses and her body with light touches. She wanted to speak but she couldn't.

And slowly, while she was being showered with touches and kisses, she felt that she was falling into unconsciousness. The husky uttering of her name was the last thing that she heard before falling once again into the realm of Morpheus.

It seemed as if a whole day had passed when she regained consciousness once more. The memory of her previous dream, the visit from the solid shadow, was surprisingly clear in her mind. He came for her.

Opening her eyes, she saw that she was in the field of sunflowers once again, but it wasn't the same placid place that she had come to know. The leaves of the lone tree sitting in the centre of the field were rustling violently due to the strong, chilly wind. Instead of the mild scent of the sunflowers that usually permeated the air, a sickly smell was detected by her senses, surrounding her very being. Curiously, even though the air was circulating well, the acrid smell didn't leave the area, as if the source of the smell was the very field itself.

Hermione wasn't sure what time of the day it was. The warmth of the sun was blocked by crimson clouds, and the sky, the usual blue and bright sky, was the colour of deep red, making the whole field seem to be wounded. The usual vibrant and sunny feeling that the flowers held was replaced by gloom and dread. The bright yellow petals were of the same hue as the wide, bleeding sky, and as the wind blew, her eyes seemed to recognize a sea of blood instead of flowers, swaying in rhythm with the wind.

_What happened here?_

Her thoughts were on the shadow that lurked in her dreams, on the mysterious man that had introduced her to the once beautiful and calming field.

_Why is he doing this? Why is this happening?_

She knew that only he had the ability to make the place look like this. He controlled everything in here except for her thoughts and feelings. Apart from that, the setting, the wind, the trees, the sky...everything, was controlled by him.

The man in question was nowhere in sight. His usual presence that was now so familiar to her was not detected by her oversensitive senses. In place of that was a feeling of foreboding, of something evil and sinister that was coming.

_Is this created solely by my mind? A nightmare, perhaps? A usual bad dream?_

No. This wasn't just a dream. This was reality; her reality as of the moment but why was this happening?

Standing up, she walked slowly around the small area she was in, encircling the towering tree, looking for the dream-man. She had rounded the hill two times already and yet there was still no sign of him. No sign at all. And she was getting cold. She was wearing a black tank top and a gray drawstring pant which was too thin for the wintry wind that was hammering on her cream-colored skin. Her hazel coloured hair was flowing wildly in the strong gale.

She stopped to look once again at the scenery before her, hands rubbing her arms. She didn't want to be here. The smell, the light, and the ambiance of the place was reminding her of memories that she longed to forget - the memories of the battle at Hogwarts where she had to do horrible things, things that she wished she could undo, take back.

Walking backwards, she leaned her body on the wide trunk of the tree. Her body needed some sort of support. The acrid smell was getting stronger and stronger, and Hermione recognized what it was – the smell of rotten flesh.

Her eyes widened in fear and shock when the field of flowers turned into a sea of blood in front of her eyes – dark crimson liquid rippled in the angry wind. Her insides knotted, bile seemed to rise from her stomach and an acidic taste was at the back of her throat. Her hands immediately went to cover her nose and mouth but it was not doing any good.

Hermione wanted to escape, to be away from this field, to be awake, but she was trapped. She had nowhere to run except to seek refuge in the mighty tree that now served as her ally in this sea of blood.

"Please!" she screamed. "Where are you? Why are you doing this to me?"

To her horror, the crimson liquid, the blood, or whatever it was, was increasing in volume. Her tiny hill was slowly being engulfed.

She got to her feet frantically. "No! Please, god!" She pleaded, but no one was listening to her.

The clouds turned to deep red, absorbing any light that might be coming from the sun above them. As the place became darker, the wind gained stronger intensity. The branches above her threatened to break in the wind. Leaves were everywhere – some went into the sea of blood, others beat into her fear-stricken face, while some went with the wind, dancing in the hellish sky. At some other time, she would have been amazed by the sight. It was frighteningly beautiful, horrid but at the same time enticing.

Turning behind her, she saw that it was impossible to reach even the lowest branch of the tree. If she only had her wand, then there was a chance that she would get out of this mess. She looked back to the now blood-filled field. The liquid was fast creeping up the small hill, the bloody liquid only a few feet away from her.

"Please! Help me! Anyone!" she cried in anguish.

Her heart was beating so fast, her breathing ragged from a sudden attack of panic, fear and onslaught of memories and her eyes were blurred from the pool of tears that were threatening to fall down her cheeks.

This must be her punishment, a price that she had to pay for the terrible things she had committed during the War.

"I didn't mean to do any of it! I had to do it, or else I would be killed, we would be killed! Please, I want to wake up!"

The crimson liquid was now at her feet. It was cold, very cold, and the smell was death itself. The liquid wasn't so liquid at all because bits of something solid were floating around her. She didn't want to think of what they were; instead, she tried to calm herself but she was failing in that too.

Tears were trailing down her cheeks as she faced the tree. There was only one option that she could take. Lifting her hands and grabbing onto the tree's trunk, she tried to climb it. Her fingers and nails dug into its body and she tried to get her right foot to do the same, but she kept on falling and falling. Every time she fell, she redoubled her efforts until her hands and face were covered with her own blood.

The advancing liquid was now on her legs, the weight of it adding to her pants so that it became harder for her to climb what she thought was her only safety. She was mumbling the words, 'I'm sorry', 'wake up', 'didn't mean to' over and over again. The thought of being calm was nowhere in her mind.

Blood now covered her chest. She flailed her hands wildly over her, still trying to climb the tree when she felt something tug at one of her lugs. A new horror was felt by Hermione when she recognized it - a large hand was around her ankles.

Hermione screamed in desperation, kicking while holding on to the base of the tree. Her throat was sore but she kept on screaming while crying. Her high-pitched voice resounded through the place.

"Leave me alone! Harry! Please! Ron!" Her thoughts went to her two best friends. They would definitely save her if they were here. "Help me! Harry!" But no one answered her pleas.

Neither of her feet were touching the ground anymore. The first hand was joined by its partner and was violently pulling her into the depths. Its grip on her ankles was crushing her bones. She kicked harder but she wasn't hitting anything solid. Her fingers were bloodied and gashes were everywhere because of the bark of the tree.

It hurt. It felt too real. Her strength was slowly faltering with every breath that she took, with every kick the she made, with every heave of her chest. It was terrifying but what would happen if she let go was even more horrible.

Whose hand was it that was pulling her? It wasn't _him_, right? The man in her dreams had never hurt her. Frightened her, yes, but never like this, never as if he wanted her to be killed from fright. If this wasn't his work, then whose was it? If this was just a dream, she could certainly force herself to wake? But she had tried that ever since the start of this terrible dream, and she didn't wake from her slumber. This was definitely one of those dreams that she had with him. Only this time she was alone.

Her worst nightmare was clearly happening to her. The grip that she had on the tree was slowly loosening. The forceful tugging didn't stop, it only increased in strength. She tried to tighten her hold but the bloody water finally reached her face and hands, making her already sweaty hands even more slippery.

Hermione gritted her teeth in an effort to draw strength but her hands slipped and she was being pulled down to the depths. Her mind ached to scream, to take some air, but her body and face was completely engulfed. Opening her eyes, all she saw was darkness.

The force pulling her down vanished so she tried to swim on the surface. Hope welled in her heart when she started to propel her feet but it was vanquished when she felt two hands on her throat, squeezing it brutally.

Her eyes widened in fear and panic. She needed to get to the surface; her lungs were about to burst from the lack of oxygen. She tried to fight off the ice-cold hands, clawing them as hard as she could, but they wouldn't budge. They only tightened their grip, harder, stronger, until she couldn't take it anymore. She gulped for air, only it wasn't air nor water but blood, its rusty, coppery taste invading her taste buds.

The choking didn't stop and she felt her environment darken even more. She was losing consciousness. Her last thought before she finally passed-out was a plea to the dream-man – _please wake me up._

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><p>The room was filled at this time of day. Twelve round tables filled the restaurant and the aroma of high-class food was filling his nostrils. Waiters moved here and there to serve the patrons of the posh restaurant that his mother had picked for the occasion.<p>

This part of his plans was unforeseen. It never occurred in Draco's mind that something like this would ever happen. Maybe it was because he and Narcissa never really talked about the things that occupied their time. Yet here they were, acting as co-sponsor for Hermione Granger. Technically, Narcissa was not yet one, but she would be. Draco was sure of that.

It had surprised him when Narcissa told him of her interest in helping out with his latest project. He tried to dissuade her but his mother was firm about it. She wanted to _join_ and Draco couldn't do anything about it.

He saw her mother walk from the ladies' room towards their table. She was literally gliding while manoeuvring through the tables, a small smile plastered on her beautiful face, looking elegant in her dark blue dress. She raised her eyebrows when she saw that their table was still devoid of people except for his son.

"It seems that they're running late," she said after sipping her tea.

"Yeah, so it seems, but they'll be here." He paused and then added as an afterthought, "Granger is never late. I wonder what's keeping her."

He didn't see his mother look at him curiously from behind the teacup.

"Hmm...maybe it's about work. Ministry officials do this a lot, even though some of them are known to be very punctual, as you say Ms. Granger is," she said while eyeing his son fiddle with the cuffs of his suit.

Draco was getting worried. He told himself that he was over-reacting, and maybe he was, but something was not right with his brunette witch.

He remembered the last time that he saw her personally. That was a three days ago, almost a month after her birthday. She didn't look well at all that time. They were in her department and she was in front of ten or more wizards and witches, presenting another matter that needed the approval of her bosses. She was smiling while her hands were moving in front of her, showing how passionate she was about what she was saying, but something in her aura, in her ambiance was off.

"Might I deduce that you're close to her since you've been working on this project non-stop?" His mother's soft voice disturbed his train of thought.

He looked at her for a second and huffed. "I know where you're getting at, mother. But no. Granger and I are _not_what you're thinking we are."

"Like what, dear?" his mother asked jokingly, leaning closer to her son. "I just stated that you're closer now compared to when you were kids. I didn't mean anything more than that. I can say that she's been good company for you, though. Ever since you started working with her, I noticed that you seemed to be more at ease, calmer."

"I don't know what you're talking about." He took a sip of water. From dry mouth or from nervousness at his mother's questioning, he wasn't sure. "Nothing's changed with me. And definitely nothing involving Granger." He sounded defensive to his own ears.

"Hmmm...is that so?" Narcissa laced her fingers in front of her.

Draco felt his mother's stare.

_Damn. She's as perceptive as ever. This will be the death of me for sure. And where is she? She's never late,__h_e thought worriedly whilst looking at the people entering and leaving the restaurant.

As if on cue, the brown-haired witch appeared looking as professional as ever. With her was her department Head, Mr. Lanphear, who Draco had met a couple of times already. He immediately straightened his body and acted as if he didn't have a care in the world.

This immediate change in Draco's attitude and stance didn't pass unnoticed by his mother. A smirk graced her thin lips which she immediately replaced with a sweet smile upon seeing that their company was near.

"Mr. Lanphear," she shook hands with the burly man and the turned to the witch at his side.

"It's nice to finally see you again after all these years, Ms. Granger."

"Same here, Mrs. Malfoy."

The party stood awkwardly for a moment, then Narcissa waved her hand to the seats opposite her. "If you please," she said while looking at her son, who remained silent and didn't even give any sort of greeting to the newly arrived couple.

"Well, I guess we had better eat before we proceed to business," said Mr. Lanphear. He seemed to not notice the glares that Narcissa was giving her son.

"Of course," Draco finally spoke while raising his hands slightly.

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><p>The lunch meeting was very uncomfortable though somewhat entertaining. Hermione felt that something was going on between mother and son. She noticed how the matriarch of the Malfoy household talked to Malfoy with a little bit of amusement and sarcasm.<p>

It was not everyday that one would see the infamous Draco Malfoy silently taking in every word that he would normally see as an insult.

_So, this is how they act together._She mused while eating her salad after taking a peek at a very pained-looking Malfoy.

It was almost a month since they had their first meeting. To her relief, and to Ron and Harry's great disappointment, Draco didn't prove to be the pain in the ass that he once was. Whenever she met her two best pals, the first thing that they asked was Draco's treatment of her. The last conversation that they - she, Ron and Harry had, played in her mind.

"I bet he still comments about your hair," Ron said while they were at the Burrow that weekend.

Hermione glared at him.

"Alright. That was a bit childish of me, but really, Mione, that ferret will never change. I saw him just last week and he still wore that stupid sneer when we passed-by each other."

She looked at Harry with a raised eyebrow.

"It's true, Hermione. I mean, maybe it's only to you that he's nice. Well, we haven't exchanged any insults since, well, since we were in Hogwarts, but that doesn't mean he's okay now."

Sighing exaggeratedly, she stood up and walked towards Ron and Harry and sat in the centre of the sofa that her two friends were sharing.

"It's only you, Harry and Ginny who keep on commenting about my hair. Malfoy never said anything about this monstrosity…"

"But that doesn't mean anything," Ron interrupted her.

"I know, Ronald. It also doesn't mean that he never insulted me."

"What?" both said at once. "What did he say?" "Did he call you anything?" "I swear I'm gonna skin that ferret alive!"

Absurd questions and threats flew from their lips.

"Stop, you two!" she yelled. "I used the wrong word. He didn't insult me. No. The word is not insult. It's more of a friendly banter. He's really witty, in my opinion."

She looked at her friends who looked back at her. Disbelief was on their faces.

"What?" she asked, completely clueless about what was the matter.

Ron answered for the two of them. "Are you the real Hermione?" He grabbed her shoulders and shook her slightly. "Are you in there, Mione?"

"Stop it, Ron. You know this is me."

"But you just said…" He looked at Harry for support which the former answered with a shrug and a goofy smile.

"I know what I said, Ronald Weasley. And as much as I want to wipe the ever-present smirk off Malfoy's face, I could never deny that he is intelligent and very serious when it comes to business."

"Are you sure you're okay?" Harry moved his hand to her forehead.

"For the love of Merlin!" She stood up and put her hands on her hips. "Malfoy has changed. And for the better. Just...just give him a chance, will you?"

Ron crossed his arms and pouted his lips. "Whatever you say, Hermione."

Then her thoughts took a 180 degree turn. The light and funny atmosphere that she felt when she remembered her friends, was immediately replaced by a shiver of dread because of the flash of memories from her nightmares. Her grip on the utensils strengthened upon seeing flashes of crimson and black.

Her musings were broken by Mr. Lanphear. "Are you finished, Ms. Granger?"

"Oh! Yes, yes," she smiled forcefully, banishing the images from her mind. "I just got caught up in my thoughts."

"You seem to do that pretty often lately," came Malfoy's voice. He was looking at her seriously.

For some unexplainable reason, her mind couldn't form any response to his simple statement. The two of them remained where they were standing, holding each other's gaze.

"Come, come, Draco." Narcissa looked at the younger witch. Her voice was cool but her eyes expressed concern. Narcissa's voice seemed to waken her from her stupor. "Thank you for accepting my offer, Ms. Granger. I promise to give my all to your proposal."

"The pleasure's all mine, Mrs. Malfoy. It's obvious that I need more hands in order for this proposal to be a success. I'm glad that you volunteered yourself for this task since a certain s_omeone_keeps on dissuading me from seeking more sponsors like you."

Draco's snort was heard by the women. Narcissa smiled widely, revealing her pearly whites. She knew who that someone was.

"Well, I just hope that that _someone_ will learn that it won't help him if he keeps on shouldering everything."

"Oh, I hope he does," Hermione grinned.

A clearing of his throat from Mr. Lanphear was heard. "We should be getting back now, Ms. Granger."

"Oh, right." Hermione took a couple of steps towards the door.

"Thank you, Madame Malfoy, for this wonderful opportunity that you've given our department. It is greatly appreciated." Lanphear addressed Narcissa. "Same to you, Mr. Malfoy. Well, we'll be off now."

Hermione looked at Malfoy and gave him a small smile. They went to the fireplace at the other side of the restaurant and flooed back to the Ministry of Magic.

But before she threw the floo powder, she felt the familiar feeling of being watched. That same feeling she had when she went to the library in Manchester, as well as in the Ministry corridor, weeks ago. She looked back and saw the tall, pale, blond man that was staring at her. It was Draco Malfoy.

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><p>AN: Thank you for reading! Tell me your ideas and thoughts, loves. :)


	16. Guilt and its Handmaiden

Chapter 16: Guilt and its Handmaiden

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. And never will be.

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><p>The blond man quickly looked away when Hermione turned her head towards him, but the change in his silver eyes didn't pass unnoticed. One second they were piercing and intense, a millisecond later and his eyes softened into something akin to unease and worry. She didn't have the chance to scrutinize this change because the blond began to exit the building with his mother.<p>

Hermione bit her lip – confused and baffled. The floo powder in her clenched right hand was falling freely into the dark rug in front of the fireplace. The witch seemed to not notice it, though. Taking a last look at the retreating head of the blond she finally threw the remaining powder into the fireplace.

She arrived at her office after a brief talk with Mr. Lanphear about the upcoming meetings with private organizations that communicated their interest in her proposal. So far, as Hermione recalled the recent events in her working life, everything was smooth sailing.

Working with Draco for the past month had revealed that even though his moods could rival those of a woman in the middle of her monthly period, he showed that he was very professional.

The window of her office was livened up by the ever-present vase of fresh flowers, courtesy of her assistant who proved time and again to be heaven-sent. She walked the short distance from the door to her desk and sunk into her oversized chair, continuing her research about a Hebridean Black that a civilian had turned over to the Ministry.

Thirty agonizing minutes passed but as much as she wanted to concentrate and focus, the memory of Draco's stare kept on poking her mind, appearing and reappearing whenever she thought she was finally getting the words that were fleeting past her eyes.

_This is not good, _she thought while her fingers played with the pages of the book. _I think he suspects that something's wrong. His eyes, _the silvery stare of the blond flashed in her mind, causing her breath to hitch, _it held something that I just can't grasp. And the sensation. It was the same sensation that I had before. It couldn't be…No. Must be coincidence. But my gut feeling tells me that he…I shouldn't make assumption so easily. I don't have any proof. And besides, it's him - Malfoy. He would never do such a thing._

She furrowed her brow with her next thought. _Why does it feel like I'm trying to convince myself? __No. No. No. No!_

Hermione shook her head vigorously from side to side and slumped dejectedly in her chair. Her work was proving to be a breeze but her personal life was in shambles. The nightmare..._that_ nightmare was the start of it all. Ever since she dreamt of that gory scene, her life had never been the same again.

The nightmare happened once that week, then occurred again the next. At first she thought it was not something that she should consider as a problem. She had this kind of episode in her life once, a chapter in her life that she'd rather not recall. It couldn't be happening again, right?

Closing the book that she was idly holding, she placed it on a smaller desk in one of the corners of her office. Her eyes were heavy, naturally so because she'd had trouble sleeping these past two weeks. The longest sleep she'd had was four hours but the usual was just three. The reason was her damned nightmares. She was thankful for the concealing charms that the wizarding world had because it saved her from prying questions from her friends and colleagues. The large and dark bags under her eyes were something that she couldn't explain easily, especially to Ron and Harry.

The lone person that knew about her nightmares was Ginny. The said witch had a habit of showing up in Hermione's apartment unannounced. It was Saturday and Hermione wasn't expecting any company so she didn't bother to hide the telltale signs of lack of sleep.

"_Hermione!" came the voice of the youngest Weasley at her back._

_The brunette flinched and the mug she was holding slipped from her hands and crashed onto the kitchen floor._

"_Oh, dear! I'm sorry, did I startle you? Here, let me help." With a flick of Ginny's wand, the mug was as good as new again._

"_I didn't expect that you'd be here but I still took the chance. What do you think of a lunch date with me? Hmm?" Ginny swerved to face Hermione and her blue eyes became wide._

"_It's not a big deal, Gin. Really. I just look awful. Nothing new, okay?" Hermione finally looked at her friend._

_The ginger-haired girl bit her lip while she looked at her friend searchingly._

"_It's not about your work, is it?"_

_Hermione looked down at their feet._

"_Is it happening again? You know you can tell me, Hermione," Ginny said while placing her hands on Hermione's limp arms, a gesture of comfort and reassurance that the brunette needed badly._

_Hermione closed her eyes and let out a long, tired sigh. "I think…I think it's coming back."_

She placed her head over her crossed arms that were resting on the desk. Her mind felt like it was injected with a sedative. The darkness was welcomed by her body but not her heart, so she fought the sleepiness even though sooner or later, she would succumb.

Hermione Granger wasn't the type of person who slacked off at work. Everyone knew how she functioned, especially when it came to things that she prioritized. Topping that was her job, but she was just tired. Her body needed to rest even for just ten or fifteen minutes.

_I'll just close my eyes but I won't sleep. And definitely not while I'm working._

She let her mind wander, meandering over recent happenings and events. What exactly was happening to her? It had been years since she was haunted by memories that tried to gnaw her sanity. She'd overcome it; proved to herself and to her close friends that she was strong; conquered her guilt.

But was it just memories? Was it the same thing that happened to her years ago?

The nightmares had been recurring every night for the past two weeks. It seemed almost the same as her condition six years ago. Her mind reassured her that it was. As usual, it had a habit of sticking to the familiar, to what she knew and experienced before, but her heart screamed no. No. It wasn't the same.

_Maybe it's because of him_.

The dream-man had stopped appearing during her nights. The sensual dream was the last that she had received from him. After that night, she hadn't heard anything from him again. No dreams. No gifts. No letters. It was as if he hadn't existed or that the things that they shared were just that – dreams.

She couldn't fight the emerging conclusion – that he was the cause of what was happening to her and that the nightmares were a sort of by-product of what he did to her and to her mind. Or worse, that he was purposely causing the nightmares, creating and designing them in a way that would slowly drive her to insanity. If that's what he was doing, then he was making very fast progress because that's exactly what was happening to her.

Everything was coming back – the images of bodies stacked on top of each other, wails of pain and howls of anguish were screamed in her ears, the reek of death and decay was under her nose. But one detail stood out from it all - the pale, cold and strong hands that had tried to choke her during the first nightmare. They kept on reappearing in every single dream. Every night they had been her companion. Every night they had tried to kill her, and every night she woke up drenched in sweat, breathing hard and laboured, sensing and feeling the memories as if they happened yesterday. But what stood out were the hands – ghostly but real enough to cause her harm.

And the guilt was also coming back. With it was its handmaiden – shame.

Hermione couldn't hold back the tears that fell from her closed eyes.

_I had to do it. I needed to do those things._

She adjusted her head so that it was now facing the window, her left ear pillowed on her left arm. The brunette tried to relax, breathing in and out rhythmically. Her eyes were still closed and she felt the gentle pull of sleep.

_Ten minutes. Ten minutes._

She repeated to herself before she finally fell into the darkness.

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><p>Hermione opened her eyes and saw that she was at the field once again. The sky was dusky and the flowers in front of her were grey. She was standing in the middle of the field, a first since she had started dreaming. Turning her head, she saw the hill was some feet away from her.<p>

Something in her mind told her that she should get to that place, so she took small and tentative steps towards it. When she was about to climb the slight incline of the hill, a movement caught her eye. Up on the hill was a chair and sitting on it was a person covered in a dark cloak. Its back was towards her so she didn't see its face, but the person wiggled when it heard the rustling of grass under her feet.

Hermione became conscious of what she was wearing – dark jeans, a t-shirt covered with a jacket that she remembered using during the war, and sneakers. She felt her wand in her arm holster. This was her usual get-up at that time. Why was she wearing this? In the previous dreams, what she wore when she fell asleep was what appeared in her dreams. And what was so significant about this place that this became the setting of her nightmares?

"Hello," her voice felt weak and it seemed to fall in the air.

The response from the person was a muffled sound and a panicked twisting of its body. She was alarmed to see ropes tied around it. They were the same colour of its cloak so she didn't see it at first. She was aghast to realize that she had seen this scene before. In fact, she had participated in this before. Her eyes widened in horror as the beat of her heart increased.

_No. No. This isn't happening._

The squirming of the person stopped while she took tentative steps backward, thinking that it was the way out of her current predicament. She continued her steps without taking her chocolate-coloured eyes from the cloaked person so she didn't see the change in the landscape. Taking another step, a scream fell from her lips when she felt herself falling into an unknown depth.

Looking up she saw the sky slowly being swallowed by darkness. She stretched both her hands up, wishing, hoping, praying that someone would save her.

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><p>Draco opened the door to Hermione's office when his knocks were not answered. Upon entering, he saw the brunette sleeping, arms pillowing her head, her brown curls cascading to her side.<p>

He smirked in amusement while he leaned on the closed door, his arms crossed before him.

_Who would have thought? Hermione Granger sleeping instead of working._

Looking at her face made his heart skip a beat. Her eyes were shut, her lips partly opened, her breathing deep. He could easily get lost in her simple beauty and natural grace.

But then a shadow passed over her face and her peaceful countenance was replaced by a furrow in her brow. A second was all it took to replace the ethereal scene before him.

Suddenly she started to clutch her hands into a ball and small, painful moans escaped her lips. Her breathing became uneven, erratic and laboured.

Draco took three strides towards the desk. He was worried. He had been since Dahlia reported to him that something was wrong with Hermione. His spy noticed the changes in her boss. The once vibrant and energetic witch had suddenly become weary and sullen-looking, as if she was carrying an immense load that she dared not share with anyone.

He reached for her shoulders and shook her lightly. Her moans were becoming louder and beads of sweat formed on her brow.

"Granger!" He called her, continuing his efforts but not succeeding. "Wake up, Hermione!"

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><p>She was falling and darkness was swallowing the whole sky. The wind increased as she descended down. She was screaming but not a sound left her throat. Suddenly she heard a voice, a man's voice, worry and panic evident in it.<p>

"Granger!" she heard. But she was still falling. "Wake up, Hermione!"

And then she was back at her office. Her chest heaved with the effort from breathing, tears falling on her cheeks, her body was enveloped in something warm.

"Shhh. Shhh. Everything's fine now," the voice said while its owner stroked her hair comfortingly.

Hermione didn't fight the warm arms around her, instead she savoured them, feeling the comfort that they brought to her frightened nerves. She breathed in deeply and her eyes opened with wonder an surprise. The smell. It was him - the man in her dreams.

She lifted her head slowly and what she saw only made her eyes open wider. What welcomed her chocolate-brown eyes were silvery-grey ones belonging to Draco Malfoy.

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><p>AN: Hi everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it. Thank you to all of those who favorited, alerted and reviewed. You guys inspire me to make this story better.

Thanks to Cecilia1204 who fixed some things here. She's awesome, isn't she?

I want to hear your reactions, opinions and ideas. So, what are you waiting for? Click the review button down there and share your thoughts. See you on the next chapter!


	17. Voices

Chapter 17: Voices

Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Harry Potter is not and will never be mine.

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><p>"Draco?" Hermione murmured, surprised to see the man leaning before her.<p>

Her cheeks were still wet from her tears, her hair was in disarray and wayward strands were trapped on her tear-stricken face, but she didn't notice any of it, or if she did, she chose not to mind it. The only thing that mattered to her at that moment was the loud thumping of her heart and the deep, grey eyes before her.

She wanted to know the unspoken things that they held but she couldn't understand their depth and their steady gaze, or the way their owner furrowed his eyebrows.

"Hermione…"

The low baritone of Draco's voice had woken her up fully. She let out a breath she didn't know she held and stood up to be free from his strong grasp. Flashes of her dream passed before her eyes for a second but the final image was his Grecian face and intense stare. At that same moment, her eyes once again caught his. He was standing fully upright like her.

"Sorry, Malfoy," she apologized while looking down at her feet, certain that her face was flaming red from the embarrassment of being caught by the man, by Draco Malfoy, in such a vulnerable position.

"I was just…dreaming," she breathed, unsure if she should look at him. "I didn't mean to grab at you. Sorry. And I do not usually sleep during working hours. I just needed to rest a bit so I took a nap."

A long pause followed.

"Was it a bad dream?" he finally asked. The usual drawl in his voice was gone.

"No. Not really. Just...just your typical bad dream. Nothing else." She finally had the courage to look at him straight in the eyes.

Draco lifted his hands to her face and slowly touched her still wet and partly flushed cheeks, wiping the tears that trailed down her eyes. "Are you certain?"

He was so close. So close that his breath was lightly fanning her face and his familiar scent was surrounding her, making her breathless and lightheaded. The contact was brief, warm and familiar, making her heart flutter like a frenzied butterfly in her chest.

"Yes… I am. I'm sure I'm fine. Thanks."

His touch. She was sure she had felt his touch before. But where? When? And his scent….

"Take a seat, Hermione." His voice once again brought her back to the present. Something's bothering you and don't try to tell me otherwise. I'm not…as insensitive as your friends think I am." He said the last sentence softly.

Hermione remained standing, face turned to the window. She closed her eyes and when she turned to Malfoy once more, a look of determination was on her face.

"I'm fine, Malfoy," she said while looking at him. "I know we've been working together for just a month or so but I can see that you're not the spoiled brat we knew in Hogwarts. You've changed. I don't know why or how, but you became better. Thank you for expressing your concern for me, but I assure you that everything's well. Bad dreams are a normal part of everyone's lives, and what harm could it do to me? Nothing, right?"

The last part sounded somewhat fake even to her own ears but Hermione wasn't ready to share anything with Draco, especially now that she needed time to think through her latest dream. It was a memory from the war minus the setting. What could be the reason behind this sudden resurgence of her past, one that she wished and prayed to be forgotten, or if possible, to be erased from her system?

And what was with his scent and his touch? Had it always been like this? Why was it so familiar? Why did it remind her of the dream-man? Why?

"Nothing's impossible in the wizarding world, Hermione. Reality, dreams - whether we're conscious or not - anything could happen. Magic can do great and grave things so don't take your nightmares lightly."

Draco moved near the door and turned to Hermione. "I know you have good friends but if ever you need anything, anything at all, you can come to me. I'll see you tomorrow morning." And with that he took a final look at her and exited her office.

Hermione remained standing even though Draco had left ten minutes ago. She felt restless and unsettled. His words seemed to hold something deeper. A warning, perhaps? Was it possible that he knew what was happening to her? Impossible. And why did he remind her of the dream-man. This time it was not just a mere hunch. This time she _felt_it. His smell, his touch and even his voice.

And her dream. Her memories. Why were they haunting her once more? If Draco was the dream-man, would he do such a thing to her? Would he subject her to this kind of torment? The man in her dreams told her that he wanted her, so if she was right then Malfoy harboured some feelings for her.

"That's ridiculous!" she shouted at her office. "It's impossible that Malfoy likes me."

A voice in her mind answered her.

_But what about those words just minutes ago. Or his actions or his stares. And don't deny to yourself that you are unaffected. You know you are. And those memories. They're coming back because they never really left. You may have found a way to repress them but you can't hide your true colours anymore. Behind that goody-goody attitude of yours lays an evil, dark side. You know what you did to those people. Now they will come back._

"No!"

Hermione's hands were on her desk, arms outstretched and head hung down. Her eyes were tightly shut, blocking the thoughts coursing through her mind.

"They will not come back. They couldn't come back. All of them are dead. So don't even think that they will take revenge. So stop it!" she said to herself."

The voice vanished instantly.

She felt better after a couple of deep breaths. Settling in her chair, she returned to the documents that she had to finish, reading but not understanding a word of it.

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><p>Draco was seated in a dark corner of the pub. He had been here a couple of times but he wanted to make sure that no one would see him. Even though he was sporting brown hair instead of his usual pale blond, he still took precautions by hiding his features. Sending an owl or even the floo was convenient enough, but he felt that the matter was getting graver and graver as days passed.<p>

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Malfoy." His 'eyes' in Hermione's division finally arrived.

"That's fine, Dahlia." Draco drew closer to the table. "What happened after I left this afternoon? Is everything alright with her? Did she say anything to you?"

Dahlia answered immediately. "Ms. Hermione went home early. She told me that she would be taking home the papers that she needed to finish but apart from that nothing else. She looked restless and nervous while she talked to me, though."

Draco's jaws tightened while he clenched his hands unconsciously. "Did she mention her dream this afternoon?"

Dahlia looked at her clasped hands while remembering her conversation with her boss. "Just in passing. Nothing detailed. She told me that it was her first time to have a bad dream while taking a nap."

"Is that so?" he said almost to himself. "Thank you for your help. The payment for this month is already in your account."

The woman smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I'll owl you immediately if I notice anything new with her."

Draco nodded in response and immediately exited the pub without taking a second look at his accomplice or the few people that frequented the place. He stepped out into the chilly November air and walked on the cobbled street leading to a dark alley where he planned to apparate.

Muggle London was once a strange place to him, but ever since he graduated from Hogwarts he made sure to acquaint himself with muggles and the usual activities that they do. That was why he engaged in investing and working with muggle companies, in order for him to experience firsthand how they interact or if they were really different from wizards as he often heard from his parents, especially his father who still had misgivings when it came to dealing with the people that he once considered as dirt below his feet. The main reason for this very drastic action was Hermione.

For him, it would never be acceptable to not know the life that Hermione was born into. She was one of the reasons why his prejudice and unfounded loathing was replaced by tolerance, even appreciation, of how they do things without magic. No one would ever believe that he even owned gadgets such as a mobile phone or a laptop. These were but a few things that he found to be very essential in dealing with muggles.

Draco reached his destination and quickly retrieved his wand to apparate home. He needed to do much thinking for he feared that he was the reason why Hermione was suffering from a sudden surge of nightmares. He would never forgive himself if something happened to her because of his foolishness and his cowardice.

A loud pop resounded in the alley and after a second, Draco was back at the manor at one of its designated apparition points. This one was situated near the main entrance of the house. He surveyed the grounds, seeing nothing but the shadows and dark figures of the hedgerows aesthetically placed around the vast grounds of his home. He could hear the splashing of water from one of the fountains in the garden.

The sky was clear and the stars were shining in the night sky. It was a cold evening but the freshness of the surroundings was enlivening. But all this passed by Draco's eyes as he walked through the garden. His heart was heavy and even though he didn't have any evidence concerning Hermione's nightmares, he felt responsible for what was happening to her.

Puffs of mist escaped from his lips as he breathed in and out. He wanted to go to her apartment, to show himself to her, to tell her everything, but he was afraid of her reaction.

_It wasn't supposed to be like this. I did not mean to harm her, if ever I'm the cause of her nightmares._

His already pale hands started to become whiter from the cold, biting air but he actually wanted its effect. This was what he needed for tonight. He couldn't do anything but to reread and to possibly look for more information in their library regarding dream manipulation.

Although he had already stopped visiting Hermione in her dreams, Draco had a feeling that his meddling with her subconscious had somehow brought this about.

He stopped in front of the hedge maze in the garden. It was one of his most favourite features of the property, serving as an escape to all his problems, as a barrier to anything that wanted to hurt him. But that was when he was still a kid. Now that he was a grown man, the maze merely looked like a simple puzzle of which he knew the answer by heart. There were times when he imagined himself showing Hermione the maze, watching her hazel eyes shine with delight and her lips forming a smile. But would that ever happen?

_Maybe no._His mind answered. _Because you've deceived her enough, haven't you? You lied to her and even took advantage of her weakness. She was wrong. You didn't change. You're still Draco Malfoy - deceiver, manipulator, lia-_

The sound of someone apparating brought Draco back to his senses.

"Master Draco!" squeaked a house-elf who was looking at him with big, dark eyes. "The mistress has been looking for you and has told Apple to tell you to go to the drawing room."

"Is that so, Apple?" Draco answered while blinking a few times as if to waken himself up.

"Yes, master. That is all. But is the master fine, sir?" the elf inquired.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I guess I just need to eat."

"Oh, master hasn't eaten yet! I'll prepare food immediately." Apple's eyes, if possible, became even larger.

"Thanks, Apple. Send it to my room after I talk with mother."

"Apple will prepare it now, sir."

Again, another pop was heard and Draco trudged towards the house heading for the drawing room.

Narcissa's favourite room was elegantly decorated. The ceiling was high with walls the colour of light blue. The curtains were white and cream, making the atmosphere light and breezy, especially in the mornings. The furniture – the chairs, the tables, the pianoforte, the cabinet of trinkets – all fit in, not too heavy on the eyes nor too lacking in presence. The windows were large and the view was that of the trees and his mother's flower garden. It didn't lose its beauty even though it was already night time as enchanted lights were hanging from the trees, giving an air of mystery to the garden.

Draco wondered why Narcissa wanted to see him since they already talked after lunch. He accompanied her to a charity gathering and that was when his mother started to drop hints and questions about his true intentions in sponsoring his previous nemesis' proposal. Of course he didn't answer anything and remained silent for the most part, but it still unnerved him to know that his mother was aware of his preference.

Narcissa was sitting on the lounge chair, reading a book while sipping a cup of tea. She needed to talk with her son regarding the actions and decisions that he had already taken in the span of a month while working with Hermione. The talk they were about to have was purely business in nature.

Given the choice, she would definitely press for more from her son. More information on how things were going between him and the brunette. Narcissa was obviously supporting the relationship but she was a bit disappointed to see that it was still at the stage where one was pining while the other party was oblivious to the feelings of the other.

Her husband, Lucius, was in the vast library of their home. He had been engrossing himself in the shelves of books that lined the imposing room. Narcissa had asked him about the sudden interest in the books but her husband only shooed her away. She would give him space for now but she planned on confronting him sooner or later since she was becoming uneasy with his strange actions.

A knock on the door pulled her from her musings.

"Come in." Narcissa's soft voice resounded throughout the room. The door slowly opened revealing not his son but the grave profile of her husband.

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><p>AN: Sorry, sorry, sorry for this very late update! Two typhoons came to our country so power was out for a couple of days. Some parts of my province is still under water and I had to deal with problems concerning my life. Anyway, what do you think of this chapter? What's Lucius up to? And Hermione's dreams. where do you think they're coming from? How about Draco? What do you think he's going to do?

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. And thanks to all of those who took their time to review! You make my heart go badump-badump whenever I open my email and a review alert was in my inbox. I hope to hear from everyone. Thanks to Cecilia1204 for editing my mistakes!

See you, loves!:)


	18. Unfounded

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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><p>Draco was taking his time walking towards the drawing room. The events of the day were still etched in his memory. And aside from that, he felt weird, somewhat different. He must be going crazy for he thought that the voice in his mind before his house-elf, Apple, interrupted him from his recollections was not his. It was a very insane idea.<p>

Staring at nothing in particular, he moved to the familiar halls, passed blurs of doors and paintings, not seeing anything in particular, mind preoccupied of one thought.

"Hermione" he breathed out while he stepped on the second landing.

One word, one name that held his sanity, happiness and future. It's pathetic to what he had been reduced to – a lovesick man so desperate, so wretched in loneliness, in anguish, in want and in need that he resorted to deceiving the only person that held his heart. It was a mistake. What he did was a mistake and even though he still wasn't sure if the predicament that Hermione was facing was because of his meddling, he knew that he was somewhat involved.

Hermione's reluctance to tell him anything was frustrating. He broached the subject this afternoon, seeing firsthand what her dreams did to her. Was she always like that? Did her nightmares always bring her to tears of fear? And what was she seeing? He wanted to know, he desired to be privy to her suffering. He wanted to kiss every awful dream goodbye and replace it with something warm and comforting – the same effect that she had with him. He will see her again tomorrow and he will do everything in his power to make her divulge anything that will be of help, even if it meant that he had to use legillemency on her.

Draco reached the door to the drawing room, hearing the muffled voices of his parents, hushed and unintelligible. He softened his steps and placed himself at the gap at the door. He was unsure why he was doing this. He could easily go into the room and join in the conversation but there was something in the tone of their voices that told him to hide his presence and listen.

The hushed voices increased in volume. His father's usually cool drawl was replaced by anger and panic. Draco still couldn't understand what they were talking about but he faintly heard his name. They were talking about him.

The sound coming from the room was immediately muted when the door shut loudly and could they be talking about concerning him?

Only one thought came to his mind – his dealings with the Dark Arts. Maybe Lucius finally told Narcissa about his knowledge about Draco. His conversation with his father was still fresh in his mind. Maybe Lucius was right. What if it really was his fault that Hermione was suffering from the unexplainable nightmares?He counted one to 60 before finally knocking. He opened it when he heard the soft voice of his mother.

Narcissa was calmly seated at the lounge chair, a small smile was painted on her immaculate face. But Draco knew his mother well. It was fake, forced. Then Draco's eyes settled on the back of his father. Lucius was behind the lounge chair. His eyes were trained on the view presented by the huge windows of the room, making it impossible for his son to see any emotion on his father's face.

"You wanted to talk to me, Mother?" he inquired, voice low and silky – normal - even though his heart was unexplainably thundering against his chest.

What was he afraid of? That both his parents finally had an idea on how stupid and foolish he had been? Or was it because it served as a confirmation of how truly grave the situation was? Or was it because deep in him, he somehow _felt_ that it was because of him? And why was he thinking that the situation was already grave? Nothing had been confirmed yet, right?

"Actually dear, I figured that you're already tired. It's already late so why don't you just –"

Narcissa was cut-off by a loud growl from her husband.

"Stop it right now, Cissa." Lucius continued to face the window. "I told you that _your _son is up to something." He turned to face his family. "And as usual, he didn't follow my advice. Impertinent child!" His grey eyes were wide and were boring into his son, conveying his disappointment, anger and in that same tone, panic.

"Lucius…" she tried to placate her husband. "We're not even sure if he has _that_ book. Don't jump to unfounded conclusions."

"Unfounded?" came Lucius' thundering and mocking voice while he moved in front of Narcissa's chair to better face his son.

Draco could practically feel his father seething but he held his ground, a bit surprised by his father's blatant show of emotion to him. The natural coolness and chill in Lucius' countenance was gone.

"Unfounded, you say, dear." He repeated with forced sweetness while he tilted his head to catch his wife's eye. "I'm afraid to say that I have an idea on what your beloved son is trying to do to a certain witch." Then Lucius slowly turned to stare at the same grey eyes that he had.

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><p>Author's Note:<p>

I'm not even sure if anyone will read this except maybe for tacker23 (hi!). I've been gone for ages and I'm truly sorry. I will do my best to finish this; I'm not sure though if I can update regularly but this much is true – you will hear from me. Sorry for the very brief chapter, guys. I feel like I'm a machine that needs to be oiled. Merry Christmas!


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